


Ah, To Be Young Again

by Fuscat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuscat/pseuds/Fuscat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean were on a normal hunt.  It was a simple, clean vampire extermination job.  But when Sam wakes up the next morning, he finds Dean has undergone a startling transformation, and he finally has the younger brother he never asked for. Can Cas and Sam find a way to return Dean to his proper age? And will he still be the same when they do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It always starts out normal

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I'd try writing a little fic before Season 9 starts. Let me know what you think!

Dean pressed his finger to his lips and tilted his head at the warehouse’s old rusted door. Sam merely rolled his eyes.

‘So, don’t alert the vampires?’ He mouthed silently to his brother.

Dean chose to ignore the slight, turned towards the door and pushed. It swung inwards silently for a few inches, before it caught on the uneven floor and scraped the rest of the way open.

“Seriously?” Sam hissed at his brother.

They both paused, frozen, listening. Dean grinned, ready to turn around and chastise Sam, when the vampires appeared.

“So much for easy,” Dean groaned, whipping his blade around and lopping off the head of the nearest vampire.

Most of them were freshly made, had only been feeding for a few weeks, and didn't know enough to stay just out of arm’s reach of the hunters. It wasn't much of a challenge to cut them down. That is, until the leaders of the nest emerged.

“My children!” The female shrieked, bringing down her fangs and lunging towards Sam.

Before Dean could even think about moving to aid his brother, the male vampire turned his sights on him.

“Don’t think so,” the vampire snarled, swiping at Dean.

He blocked the first few shots with ease, but miscalculated the timing and earned a punch straight to the gut. He felt himself hit the wall behind him and the breath rush out of his lungs. As he tried to suck in a breath of air to fill his lungs, the vampire closed one hand around his neck. With the other hand, the monster grabbed Dean’s wrist and knocked the machete from his grip.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean thought as he clawed at the hand around his throat.

The vampire grinned his pointy toothed smile and sunk his teeth in the exposed flesh of Dean’s neck. Dean briefly shut his eyes against the pain, but quickly snapped them open as he heard the familiar rustle of wings. The vampire’s body crumpled. He felt the hands slip from around his neck and greedily sucked in some much needed oxygen. Dean grappled with the vampire head still clamped to his neck and ripped it away from him.  
His eyes immediately scanned the room, and, finding the nest clear and his brother safely wiping vampire blood off a knife, he turns his attention to Castiel.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean grinned, pressing one hand to the bleeding wound and giving his friend a rough pat on the back with the other.

“That was cutting it a bit close, don’t you think, Dean?” Cas said, unamused.

“What can I say?” Dean forced a rough laugh, “I must be getting old.”

“I’m fine too,” Sam gripped, making his way over to his brother. “If anyone cares.”

“Of course, Sam,” Cas reassured, entirely missing the sarcasm. “But you weren’t…” The angel searched for a colloquialism, “playing it ‘fast and loose’.” He gives a half-hearted attempt at air quotes before turning his scrutinizing eyes back to Dean.

“Before you _lecture_ me, think you can work some angel mojo so I don’t bleed out all over the floor?” Dean gestured to the oozing wound. “If I have to wait until _after_ the lecture, I might not make it.”

Castiel let out a very audible sigh, but nevertheless passed his healing hand over Dean’s neck.

“Oh yeah, much better. Thanks, man.”

“What else is there for me to do, other than saving your life and playing nurse?” With that retort, Cas flapped his wings and disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.

“Guess he’s finally learning some sarcasm,” Dean mused, trying to appear unaffected by the way the angel had stormed off. He picked up his fallen knife and slid it back into its sheath and avoided his brother’s eye.

“Can you just try and have one conversation without upsetting the guy?” complained Sam. “Just _one_ conversation. I mean, come on, Dean. He’s saved your life more times than I have at this point.”

“Hey!” He protested, “I was trying to be grateful! Not my fault the guy’s got a stick up his ass.” Dean stormed out of the abandoned warehouse and started the Impala.

“Dean!” Sam shouted after him. “We have to get rid of the bodies!”

~

When Sam finally got back to the motel, he found Dean passed out on his bed, a half finished beer hanging out of one hand. Sam rolled his eyes and gently pulled the bottle out of his brother’s grip. For all Dean’s proclamations of protecting Sam, sometimes he wondered who was really watching out for whom.  
He moved around the motel room for a bit, cleaning up the other empty bottles, before deciding to call it a night himself. At least he changed out of his jeans first.

~

It was such a pleasant afternoon. At least, he thought it was afternoon, but there were fireworks lighting up a darkened sky. This was just one of the things Sam was ignoring. Another being that he had brought his brother along on his picnic with the beautiful blonde woman beside him. Dean was behaving himself, however, and wasn't making any guttural noises or taunts at the way the blonde woman was feeding him strawberries. Then--

“Sam!”

His brother’s voice cut harshly through the environment around him. Sam whipped around to look at Dean. He just shrugged.

“SAM!” Dean’s voice was more insistent this time. But it wasn't coming from the figure beside him on the picnic blanket…

In a flash, Sam realized he was dreaming and awoke with a start. He grabbed the nearest weapon on the nightstand, a knife, and spun around to face his brother.

His bed was empty.

Sam snapped on the light and stood up slowly. “Dean,” he called out carefully. “Dean, where are you?”

A figure slowly emerged from behind the other side of the bed. A very small figure. He slowly moved into the light.

His eyes were wide with fear. “Sam? Sam, I think I fell out of bed.”

“Dean!?” Sam dropped his knife in surprise.

In front of him stood a small boy, maybe 4 or 5 years old. He had the same haircut, the same light freckling across his face, and the same green eyes as his brother. The boy was also wearing one of Dean’s favorite band t-shirts, but it hung off of him like a dress.

“Well who the hell else would I be?” The boy snapped, tightening his small fists in anger. “I don’t know what the hell happened, but I am not liking it.”


	2. What's up, Doc?

Sam was utterly at a loss for words. He tried several times to start a sentence or a question, just to wrap his head around the situation, but all he could manage were a few disjointed syllables before shutting up seemed the best course of action.

Dean sighed and ran a small hand through his hair. He was trying to act as calm as he could. No need to freak Sam out any more than necessary in the situation. For some reason his brain didn’t want to cooperate logically.  Dean knew he wanted to say something comforting, to make a joke and assure his brother he’d be back to normal in no time, but for some reason most of his energy and concentration was being spent holding back tears. It was as if he was trying to think through a fog and needed all his mental power on one task at a time.  He thought maybe he was still drunk from the night before. Or maybe he wasn’t drunk enough.

Dean sniffed back the stinging in his eyes and shuffled over to the mini fridge.  He pulled it open and grabbed a beer.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam said slowly, “Maybe we don’t drink in the underage body?”

That was it.

With a roar, Dean threw the bottle to the ground and watched it bounce ineffectually against the carpeted floor. He didn’t have the height or strength for the toss to break glass. Big, fat tears began streaming down his freckled cheeks.

Sam knew he had to spring into action, but, instead of “springing,” he simply took a few steps towards the crying child, waved his arms, and made a shh-ing sound.

“There, there, little buddy,” Sam tried. Even on the best of days Dean had always been better with children.  Something about basically still being a child himself. Nobody could blame Sam  for floundering when the child throwing a temper tantrum was his older brother.

Hearing his brothers words suddenly snapped Dean back into control. He put a hand out to stop his brother from coming any closer.

“No,” he sniffed out between the sobs. “I’m fine. Don’t. You. Dare. Come. Closer.” The tears were nearly done now, but his eyes were still red and puffy.

Maybe this would go better if Sam just pretended Dean wasn’t three feet tall. He turned his eyes slightly away from Dean. “So what happened?”

“We’re not going to talk about that,” Dean growled.

“No, no.” Sam waved his arms and gave his brother an embarrassed smile. The sooner they both forget that moment, the better. He continued, “I mean, what happened last night? Why are you… 4?”

“I don’t know,” Dean said simply. He pulled the t-shirt closter around him and padded back over to the bed. After a moment, he realized he wouldn’t be able to climb back up without flashing his brother all of the nothing that he was currently wearing under the shirt he was swimming in.  Dean rolled his eyes and sank down onto the floor.

There was a tense pause.

“Nothing unusual?” Sam tried again.

Dean gave him a hard stare, but given his current cherub cheeks it was less than effective. “We ganked a few vampires. I had a beer and went to bed. End of story.” There was something about the squeak in his voice and the way his mouth almost had trouble forming words, like he had to think about what the words meant before saying them, that concerned Dean. He wasn’t going to tell Sam, though.  No need to add more than physical worries to the plate.

“You did fight with Cas…” his brother offered.

“And as you pointed out, that’s nothing unusual either.”

“Think maybe he’ll pop by for a visit? Maybe this is something that can just be angel-magicked back to normal?” Sam was trying to be positive for his brother, but he didn’t have much hope that this problem would be easy to solve.

“Like it’s ever that easy.” Dean twisted his small mouth into a grimace.  They were both too jaded to believe in an easy fix to a big problem. Then, he threw up his hands in resignation. “But I guess it can’t hurt to ask.”

Dean cleared his throat and put his two hands together in mock supplication as if he belonged on the cover of a first communion card.

“Castiel, who art... probably pissed at me. We have bigger fish to fry. SOS. Dot dot dot dash dash dash dot--”

“Have we really resorted to morse co--oh.” Castiel had appeared with a slightly annoyed expression, before catching sight of Dean. For a brief flash, his face was open and vulnerable: nearly horrified. Just as quickly, the angel mask was back. Cas squinted at the older Winchester and cocked his head. He stared.

Dean was used to this by now. The silence and constant eye contact didn’t bother him anymore.  In fact, in this instance, Dean was glad for a small reprieve.  That short conversation had drained him.  It was taking a lot of energy to focus, to sort through the hazy muck that had settled over his thoughts.  He either needed a drink, which was out thanks to Sam, or to take a drive in his baby, which was out since he doubted he could even reach a pedal, let alone see out the windshield.  

Sam was not quite as comfortable with the “moment” Dean and Cas had settled into. “Hey, Cas.  Guess you can see our dilemma, huh?” He tried a small laugh to break the tension.

Cas turned to glance at Sam. “What happened?”

“We don’t know. I just woke up to find him like this. We were hoping…” Sam sighed, realizing just how often they used the angel as their personal supernatural 911, “hoping you could take a look. See if it’s an easy fix.”

Cas nodded and easily crossed the few steps between him and the child who was Dean. He bent down until he was at eye level with the boy. “Hello, Dean.”

“Cas.” Dean gave the angel a smile, but knew it was more for the benefit of Sam the onlooker.  Once Cas had made eye contact, Dean knew he could see everything.  At the best of times Dean had trouble keeping any secret from the angel, but now there was no hope for acting brave when every vulnerable feeling and thought was bubbling dangerously close to the surface.

Cas did not wait for permission, but reached a hand out and pulled the collar of Dean’s t-shirt over one shoulder.  The faint scar of his own handprint was still etched into the skin.  While Dean had apparently grown smaller, the scar itself had not shrunk. It now took up most of Dean’s upper arm. Cas slid his hand over the scar for a fraction of a second. It still fit perfectly. The angel took his hand away and with a clinical air, pulled the t-shirt back up. He looked again into those green eyes for a fraction of a second and touched two fingers to his forehead.

Nothing.

Cas took in a short, pained breath. It was so quick and quiet, Dean wasn’t even sure if he heard it. The angel’s features betrayed nothing.  His eyes were another story. Dean, not for the first time, wanted nothing more than to the reach out and comfort his friend.  Normally, he knew enough not to try.  Now, however, his carefully constructed walls were missing.  Nothing was holding him back, and he reached out his hand to Cas’ face before he knew what he was doing. His fingers had barely grazed the angel’s stubbly cheek before Cas pushed himself to his feet and turned to Sam.

“It is beyond me, Sam. I am sorry.”

Sam let out a long breath. “Yeah, Cas. We figured. Worth a shot though, right?”

“I am willing to help out in any way I can. Perhaps the two of us can put Dean right.”

The two of them? Dean thought. They were talking as if he wasn’t even in the room anymore. As if he couldn't be of any use. “Hello!” Dean jumped angrily to his feet. “I am not going to sit on my ass and...watch cartoons while you two hunt the monster that did this,” he gestured to his whole body at once, “to ME!”

Both of them turned to him at once, looking like they were caught with their hands in the cookie jar. After a beat, Sam said, “You are until we get you a pair of pants, at least.”

Dean couldn’t argue with that. Taking him out looking like a homeless orphan would probably just complicate things. So he had to settle for a very angry looking pout to show them he was not happy about it.

“Can you stick around with him for a bit, Cas? I won’t be gone long.”

“And now I’m getting a babysitter.” Dean threw his hands up, “Unbelievable.”  
“Of course.”

“Just… watch tv, I guess?” Sam flipped on the motel set and tossed the remote to Cas. He quickly pulled on his jeans and shoes and grabbed the keys to the car. “And make sure he stays out of the mini fridge!”

With that last instruction, Sam shut the door behind him.

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Dean stressed to Cas.

Cas sat down on the bed. “I’m just staying because Sam asked.” The angel tilted his head at Dean and squinted his eyes, daring him to argue.

Dean sidled up next to Cas. He stood watching the tv for a moment, before making a small conspicuous cough. When Cas looked down at him, his mouth curled upwards in a whisper of a smile.

“Dean? Do you need help onto the bed?”

Dean gave one curt nod, looking anywhere but at Cas’ smug face. As Cas reached down and lifted him up next to him, Dean whipped his head around and pointed a plump finger at his friend’s face. “Do not say anything to Sam.”

Cas didn’t agree but he also didn’t argue. He simply handed the remote to Dean.  The boy flipped through several channels, pausing at a cartoon of a girl singing in Spanish to an anthropomorphic map.

“When in Rome,” Dean joked, but didn’t flip past.

It was only when Dean had thrown out a hand and pointed at the screen and whispered ‘the bridge is right behind you,’ that Cas really began to worry.


	3. The Things We Forget

Dean and Castiel had gone through most of the morning programming of Nick Jr. before Sam returned to the motel carrying a few shopping bags and a box of donuts. Cas was still sitting perched carefully on the edge of the bed in the same position as when Sam had left. Dean, however, was lying on his back on the bed, his head hanging off the edge, watching the television upside down. His arms hung down limply beside his head, inches away from the floor.  If not for the steady hand of the angel gripping the boy’s shirt, he would surely have gone tumbling headfirst off the bed.

Sam took in the scene and wordlessly sought out Cas’s eyes for explanation.

“He, uh... squirms,” Cas offered.  

“I told you I’d be fine. I was just getting comfortable. I wasn’t going to fall off, Cas,” Dean scoffed, an embarrassed flush rising to his cheeks, and tried to pry the angel’s fingers from his clothes.  

“You did fall off. Twice.” Cas sighed and released his grip of the boy. Before Dean could aim his smug grin at Sam, he slid off the bed and landed in a heap on the floor.

“Please tell me you brought me some shorts, Sam,” Dean said, trying to change the subject before the angel could say ‘I told you so’ or worse, give him a look.  He rolled quickly onto his feet and put his hand out in the universal sign for ‘gimme.’

“Uh, yeah,” Sam rolled his eyes, but let his brother keep what little dignity he had left. “I got you a few days worth of clothes. Not sure how long it will take us to sort through this mess. There is some good news, though. They make plaid in your size.”

Sam tossed a bag in Dean’s direction, but purposely fell short of his brother’s outstretched hand. He didn’t want to knock out the poor kid and, honestly, didn’t think Dean’s fragile ego could take two offences in a row. Dean stared at the bag, shot a look at his brother, but said nothing. He dragged the bag into the bathroom and shut the door.

“So how is he?” Sam asked, putting the donuts down on the dresser. He moved around the room, packing the extra boys clothes into Dean’s bag, trying to keep busy and productive.  It had helped to go out and have a task to accomplish.  Even if it was just as simple as: get clothes and get breakfast. It gave him something to do other than face the bigger issue of putting Dean right.  He knew that challenge wasn’t going to be remotely easy.

“He is…” Cas chose the next word carefully, “different. And not just because of his new size.” The angel continued before Sam could interrupt with a retort. That was a problem both Winchesters had, inserting snark or sass into every conversation. “He is Dean, but he is also...” He shook his head. “It’s complicated. Different.”

“Yeah, well, it’s never easy is it?” Sam gave a forced smile to Cas. “We should give Bobby a call. See if he’s ever heard of something like this.” Sam pulled out his phone, then shot a worried glance at the bathroom door. “Has he been in there too long? Dean?”

“Call Bobby.” Cas put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’ll check on your brother.”

“Thanks.” And with that, Sam turned away and dialed.

 

Cas knocked on the bathroom door.  He knew enough now not to just transport himself inside.  He had done it once while Dean was in the shower, and it had not gone over well. The bathroom was a “no-fly zone” for angels. Although he doubted Dean’s new form could inspire the same kind of fear, Castiel had learned his lesson.

“Dean? Are you alright in there? Sam wanted me to check on you.”  Cas rapped his knuckles against the door again.

“Cas?” The small voice called out. It had a strange quality to it. A waver that usually only accompanied his brother’s immediate danger. “Is Sam with you?”

“He is in the room, but he is on the phone,” Cas answered, concerned. Did Dean need to know Sam was unharmed? What could he possibly think was happening?

“Good. Come in here.” The door opened a few inches, and Cas shuffled uncomfortably inside. The bathroom would have been a tight squeeze for one full grown man, but now the angel had to maneuver around the small body of his friend. Once he was fully inside, Dean shut the door hard. He turned to look up at Cas, tears welling in his eyes. Dean refused to cry again today. He refused to lose control.

“Dean, what’s happening?” Cas stared hard at the Winchester trying to read his thoughts. His eyes shone with worry, shooting across the entirety of his body trying to find the ailment. He was dressed now, in true Winchester fashion, in layers. He had a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and button down flannel with the tags still hanging off. On his feet were brown boots, miniatures of the ones adult Dean would wear. Sam had done well shopping.

“I, uh,” He sniffed, “I can’t tie my shoes.”

Castiel was at a loss. He paused for a moment and breathed out, “What?”

“I can’t tie my goddamn shoes, Cas!” Dean hissed, and his voice hitched as a sob threatened to break out. “I know how to do it. I know I know how to tie shoes, but…” He reached out a hand and snatched it full of trenchcoat. He tugged angrily. “I can’t tie them.”

Cas nodded and reached down to put a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Do you need me to tie them for you?” The angel knew this was a problem. Dean was asking for help for one thing, which wasn’t usually done unless they were in a life or death, world ending situation. The angel would never tell Dean how concerning this was. Besides, Dean was probably beating himself up internally for his lack of fine motor skills. Cas could simply tackle the problem in front of him and help however he could.

“You can tie shoes right?” Dean suddenly looked unsure. And somehow lost.

“I may not have had to dress myself, but I did watch humans invent the knot. I’m sure we can manage.” He gave Dean a small smile, and to his surprise, the boy mirrored it. Dean should not be so easily manipulated.

Without another word, Cas lifted his friend onto the closed lid of the toilet and crouched down in front of him. With deft fingers he tied the laces of one shoe and then the other. While Cas was working in front of him, Dean was worrying. What was happening to him? He had called Cas in to help with his shoes, but he had been having just as much trouble putting on the rest of his clothing. He hadn’t even been able to wrestle the tags off of the clothes and had given up trying to button the flannel.

Dean was sure he knew how to dress himself, but that knowledge seemed like it was from a dream, slowly drifting away the longer he stayed awake. He was fighting tooth and nail inside his head to keep the mist away from his memories and stay himself.

“Cas,” Dean said suddenly, putting both hand on either side of the angel’s face. “We can’t tell Sam.” The green eyes were wide with fear. “Tell him, I needed help reaching the sink or something. We’re going to put me right, but,” Dean gulped down a hard lump in his throat. He was going to do it. He was going to share some feelings, and there was nothing he could do now to stop it. “I’m worried.”

Cas looked to meet the boy’s eyes. His brow furrowed, and he could clearly see all the fearful and anxious thoughts that were flitting around inside his mind. The angel knew he would have to tell Sam eventually, tell him everything, but for now he would respect his friend’s request. “I won’t tell Sam.”

Dean let out a huge sigh of relief, closed his eyes, and leaned his head forward until it was touching Castiel’s. They stayed like that for a moment, forehead to forehead. Cas breathed steadily, enjoying the closeness that Dean usually forbid him.

“We should get out there though,” Cas said, reluctantly, “If you truly do not wish Sam to worry.” In a flash, he snapped the tags hanging off the boy’s clothing. It was mostly an unconscious action, Castiel hadn’t even realized it had needed to be done or that it had been done until he was looking at the tags in his hand.

“Thanks,” Dean muttered, reminding himself to try to guard his thoughts more carefully from the world’s most thought invading angel. Dean scooted himself off the toilet and made his way out into the main room, Castiel right on his heels.

“Everything all right?” Sam asked, eyes shifting between his brother and the angel beside him.

“He’s short now,” Cas offered as an explanation. “The world does not seem built for someone of his size.”

Dean was glad that Cas took the lead. He was sure that any hesitation would have caused him to simply blurt out his lack of shoe tying ability and then promptly burst into tears. He seemed to want to cry a lot now and couldn’t quite remember if that was something he often felt.

“What did Bobby say?” Cas ventured, when neither brother added anything new.

“He said we should get our asses over to him,” Sam gave a wry smile, “I don’t think he trusts us with a kid.”

 


	4. Who Dunnit

Castiel ruffled his wings in annoyance, but only Dean standing next to him could feel the slight change in the atmosphere. He looked up curiously at the angel, squinting and half hoping his new perspective would grant him some new sight.

“I am an angel of the Lord,” Cas gritted his teeth, and his voice got impossibly deeper, “I was made for taking care of mankind.”

Sam laughed nervously and raised his hands in defeat, “I’m not saying it, Cas. Only relaying the message.”

“So, are we going straight to Bobby’s?” Dean asked, casually making his way over to the dresser to peer at the donuts. He was pretty sure he could reach them.  

Sam looked at Dean, half surprised, as if he had forgotten he was in the room. He and Cas seemed to be doing a lot of that, Dean thought. Talking about him instead of to him. It annoyed him, but at the moment he was more focused on reaching up into the box of donuts than getting angry. He stretched up on his tiptoes and felt his hand touch the gooey frosting of what he assumed was a Boston creme and yanked it hard out of the box. Dean had only a moment to smugly enjoy the victory of accomplishing something on his own, before the box came tumbling down at his head.

In a flash, Cas was at his side, catching the box, while Sam was two steps behind yelling incredulously, “Dean!”

Cas’ reflexes were fast, but not fast enough to stop one jelly donut from rolling out of the box, off Dean’s head, and down his shirt.  He was left with powdered sugar in his hair and across his shoulders like a bad case of dandruff and one smear of jelly down his new shirt.

Dean let out a heavy breath, hung his head, and resigned himself to suffering his humiliation in silence. He was Dean Winchester. He refused to ask for help. But somehow, in one day, he needed to be physically picked up and have his shoes tied for him, and he probably should have asked for help reaching for a freaking donut.

Sam gave Dean a heartbreaking look of pity, and sighed softly. “Dean, you could have just asked.” He brushed the powder a little too roughly from his brother’s hair, not from malice, but just from never having had to be gentle with him. When he saw the red stain down the front of the shirt, Sam shook his head. “Dude, I just bought this.”

At this, Dean was done being a passive participant and swatted Sam’s mammoth hands away. “It’s better than blood,” he grumbled, running one hand violently through his hair, dislodging whatever powder remained.  Dean stalked away to the chair at the other side of the room, climbed up into it, and tore into his donut as if all his problems were his breakfast’s fault.

Sam looked to Cas for some help, but the angel was on his knees using a paper napkin to scoop up the jelly mess on the floor. It was too convenient to not be purposeful.  Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly and purposefully. ‘It is not his fault. It is not his fault,’ he repeated to himself like a mantra. Then, he gave one awkward cough and chose to soldier on.

“Bobby wants us to head over there now, but it just makes more sense to comb through this area first.” For the first time all morning, Sam was talking to Dean like he was an adult. It was too bad that Dean was a bit more invested licking the chocolate icing from his fingers than hearing the gameplan from Sam.  Sam continued undaunted,  “It’s at least a ten hour drive to South Dakota, and that’s without stopping and probably breaking a few speed limits. It just doesn’t make sense if the thing that did this to Dean is still lurking around here. We’re better covering all our bases and then heading to Bobby if we don’t find anything.”

He paused, looking for some sign of support of his plan. Dean was staring hard at the crumpled box of donuts that Castiel had put back on the dresser and licking the last remnants of frosting from the corner of his mouth. Cas was staring hard at Dean.  Sam took another deliberate deep breath and began pacing slowly as he rambled on.

“The last thing we did was clear out that vampire nest.  This kind of…” Sam searched for a word, “transformation...thing just doesn’t seem like a vampire’s MO.  But after I finished the clean up,” he fought the urge to add a pointed ‘alone’, “I came straight back here. You didn’t go anywhere else last night, did you Dean?”

As Sam spoke, Cas had wordlessly pulled one of the least destroyed donuts from the box and walked it over to Dean.  Sam had looked up just in time to see Dean give the angel a warm, completely unguarded smile as he was handed the pastry. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen that genuine a smile from Dean.  Every little bit of happiness they had been able to wring from their miserable lives had always been somehow tainted.  Sure, they had always found moments to smile and laugh together, but had always done it like people who knew they should take their bits of happy where they could get it because tomorrow would most certainly be worse.  This, however, was something different.  It had looked like the chip Dean had permanently super glued to his shoulder was suddenly missing. Even Cas, who had seemed to Sam especially gruff today, was taken by surprise, letting his lips curve slightly upwards in a whisper of a grin.

Sam took all of this in in an instant, because his mouth was already moving ahead of his brain, shattering the moment, “Dean?”

With that, the Dean who carried the weight of the world was back. Dean felt the warmth of happiness fade in his belly. He wasn’t entirely sure what Sam had been talking about.  As soon as he had set to work attacking his first donut, he had let everything else drift away. He had felt much better. It was easier to just let his mind cloud over the things it was working hard to evaporate, and he had briefly forgotten everything that Cas and Sam seemed to think was so important. Couldn’t they just enjoy the sweet breakfast treats like he was? When Cas had brought him another donut before he even had to ask, he swore this was what Christmas morning should feel like. Then his brother had called him back, and Dean had mentally scrambled frantically at everything that was slipping away from him.

Right. He was under the influence of some monster. This was a case. A case he was intimately involved in. Sam had asked him a question. An important question?  
“Sorry, what?” Dean tried his best to sound nonchalant, but thought he heard his voice shake slightly.

“Did you go anywhere else last night before coming back here?”

He had to press his brain to remember. He had memories of last night, but they seemed like they had happened to someone else. Like it was a story he was told before bed. He knew that the man had fought with the angel. He had fought with Cas.  Then he hopped in the Impala and drove off.

“No,” Dean answered after a moment, “No, I just came back here.”

Sam frowned. “Alright, should we check the room for hex bags? This seems more like a spell to-- ”

“I already did,” Cas interrupted, “when you went out this morning. Nothing.”

“Still, it fits more with a witch than a vampire.”

“Maybe its a vampire witch hybrid!” Dean chimed in, a bit too enthusiastically, “That could be a thing right?”

Both Sam and Cas stared at him.

“Probably not,” Sam gave his brother another pity smile, “But maybe they were working together. Cohabitating. We should split up. Cas, will you go check out the vampire nest? See if there was something there that could have done this to him? Dean and I will do some research in case there’s been some signs of witchcraft that the vampire signs covered up.”

Sam felt like he was giving Cas the short end of the stick. He should volunteer to do the vampire nest sweep, but he didn’t want Dean going back to the nest in his new vulnerable state incase anything had accidentally been left alive, and he didn’t really trust Cas with a computer.

“Is that okay?” he checked with the angel, just to assuage his guilt.

Castiel knew he stared a bit too long at Dean before tearing his eyes away to meet Sam’s. “Of course, Sam.” He flapped his wings and was gone.

Dean felt disappointment sprout in the pit of his stomach as he watched the angel disappear. He knew he never liked it when Cas would take off, even for a perfectly legitimate reason, but in his current condition, he felt even more abandoned. If he needed help with something he would have to ask Sam, and he could not stand the thought of having to ask Sam for help. Dean took care of Sam. That was his job.  No matter the circumstances, he couldn’t ask Sam to take care of him. That would be the worst.

“Ready to do some research?” Sam asked, bringing his and Dean’s laptops over to the table.

Dean groaned. He lied. This was worse.


	5. Too Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read the story so far and left some kudos or feedback. I'm not done yet, and I'm not sure how much more there is to go, but I'm so grateful that for each and everyone one of you who stops by. 
> 
> Also, I'm a lazy proofreader, so I apologize for any glaring mistakes. I try and fix them as I find them. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Dean was holding up his head with a hand as he stared at the laptop, alternating between tabs in his internet browser. One was a search for weird activity on the website of the local newspaper.  The other was a mediocre flash game.  His ability to focus on the important task at hand came in waves.  He’d drift off into the easy forgetfulness before dragging himself back and reading more articles.  As the afternoon wore on, Dean found himself spending more and more time in the second tab. Nevertheless, he sat dutifully at his post, occasionally forgetting himself and absentmindedly swinging his legs under the table.

When Dean’s focus on even the internet game waned, he peered over the laptop to watch Sam.  Sam, not knowing his brother was watching, had open concern plastered across his face.  It was obvious that he had found nothing useful in his own research.  Either the vampire activity had overshadowed any hint of witchcraft, or there was just none to be found. Sam worried that it was the latter option. He worried that whoever or whatever had cursed Dean was long gone. He worried that the effects would be irreversible. And now, Sam also started worrying that Cas had been gone too long. The angel had either run into trouble or decided to pull one of his famous vanishing acts and split.  Sam honestly didn’t know which option he would prefer.

The concern on his face morphed slowly into a pained grimace. He hoped Dean wasn’t thinking the same thing and quickly shot a look at his brother.

Their eyes met.

Both brothers quickly dropped their heads, guilty at being caught. A faint blush started creeping over Dean’s freckled cheeks. Sam cleared his throat.

“Well, my eyes are going to fall out,” He shut his laptop. “Did you have any luck?”

Dean quickly snapped his own computer shut, making sure to close out of the game tab to get rid of the evidence first. “Nope. Nothing.”

Sam rubbed a large hand over his face and sighed. “Me neither,” he said after a moment. Then he had an idea. ‘This is it,’ he thought to himself, ‘you get five seconds to feel sorry for yourself. Five. Then you suck it up and deal with the problem.’  

One Kansas City. This sucks.

Two Kansas City. I have no idea how to fix this.

Three Kansas City. This sucks so much.

Four Kansas City. It completely sucks, and I am so completely lost.

Five Kansas City.  It has to be worse for Dean.

When his five seconds were over, Sam forced a smile and faked enthusiasm, clapping his hands together once. The noise made Dean jump, and he looked up at his brother with a slightly wary expression.

“No sense sticking around here. Besides, it’s past lunch time. Want to grab a bite at the diner?” Sam knew he was speaking a bit fast and could hear the slightly patronizing tone of his voice, but Dean didn’t call him out or raise an eyebrow in silent derision. Instead, Dean smiled.

Another open and honest smile. Not nearly as bright as the first one, but Sam still felt his own face relax into a genuine grin in response.

The smile vanished and a thin flash of concern crossed Dean’s face. “Where’s Cas, though?”

He should have been back by now, right? Dean’s mind was buzzing with a thousand thoughts. His head swam and he found it harder to breathe. What if a vampire had got the jump on him? What if he found the witch and was cursed himself? What if he just left? What if Dean needed him and he just le--

Sam jumped to interrupt when he saw Dean’s face fall and his whole body tense up. “I’m sure he’ll catch up with us. You know Cas, he’s probably examining every atom of that nest to make sure he doesn’t miss anything.” He forced a laugh and grinned at Dean.

Dean’s body relaxed again, and he gave his brother a small smile back. He was getting worked up about nothing. Cas was the one who tied his shoes. Obviously he wouldn’t just leave him.

...And the angel had always come back when he needed him. He’s family, Dean reminded himself forcefully. He had been drifting again, and it was getting more and more difficult to drag himself back.

With purposeful intent, Dean jumped out of the chair and stalked over to his duffel. “Let’s go then. I’m starving.” He tried to lift the bag over his shoulder and failed. Instead, he cleared his throat and dragged the bag towards the door. “You coming, Sammy?”

Sam watched his brother stride towards the door, struggling with the pack behind him, and shook his head. He took his time packing up the rest of their belongings while Dean loomed by the door. Sam couldn’t understand these sudden mood swings, and now Dean seemed particularly ticked off, and he wasn’t sure why. Sure, it wasn’t easy to be cursed or under a spell or whatever, but it felt like there was something more happening. Something that Dean was purposefully hiding from Sam, and the worry he had tried to bury or forget suddenly twisted in the pit of his stomach.  Even though he hadn’t eaten more than half a crushed donut all day, Sam wasn’t sure he’d actually be able to eat anything.

At last, everything was packed, and they could go. Sam even took the duffel from Dean’s hand and slung it over his overburdened back.

‘Finally,’ Dean thought, following Sam out to the Impala. His baby looked even more impressive and downright badass from this height. With a sudden feeling like the floor dropping out from under him, he realized he couldn’t drive her. Dean shoved his hands angrily into his pockets and sulked.

Sam was too busy packing the car to notice at first, but he soon felt the waves of anger roll over him. He glanced at his brother, who looked like he was about to pull a muscle from trying so hard to hold everything in. Sam silently opened the passenger side door, watched Dean scramble into the seat, and closed the door. As soon as Sam had slid into the driver’s side and started the car, Dean spoke.

“This sucks,” he hissed, the words dripping out of his mouth like poison. He didn’t want to burden Sam, he really didn’t, but actually realizing he wouldn’t be able to drive his baby (at least, not until he hit puberty again) was too much for him to suppress.

“At least you don’t have to sit in a booster seat?” Sam tried, attempting to lighten the mood.

Instead he only got a silent, tense ride to the diner at the center of town.

 

Sam parked the car on the other side of the street and waited for his brother to get out. After an obvious pause, he went around the car and opened the passenger door. Dean looked up at him with a slightly broken expression, all fight gone.

“I think the seat belt is broken,” he said dumbly.

Sam reached in and across the boyish body and pressed the release button. The seat belt unlatched itself with a snap.

“Oh,” Dean whispered involuntarily.

“Just lucky,” Sam said quickly, trying to save what little was left of Dean’s ego, “I’ll have Bobby look at it as soon as we get to him.”

Dean nodded. He knew his brother had just done something big for him, but he wasn’t quite sure what.  He climbed out of the car with as much grace as he had scrambling into it, and they headed towards the diner. Dean was a few steps ahead of his brother, when everything turned upside down.

His vision went blurry, his body was flung backwards, and there was a loud whoosh-ing sound. Suddenly the world stopped again. He could hear the blood pumping in his body, and his breath was coming in short quick gasps.

“Dean?!” He heard Sam shout, but the sound of his beating heart drowned it out.

Then, his vision was filled with two concerned blue eyes.

“Dean,” the eyes said, cutting through the deafening pulse. “Are you hurt?”

The sounds of the town came flooding back in his ears, and his body relaxed out of shock. He could feel a strong hand on his shoulder. Cas.

“No,” he heard his voice squeak out. He stared into the angel’s eyes for a moment, before looking around for his brother. Sam was looming over him, his face frozen with fear. “What happened?”

“Jeeze, Dean,” Sam breathed, “You can’t just run out into the street like that! Cas, if you hadn’t been there...”

Cas stood up, but did not take his hand off Dean’s shoulder. Dean wondered briefly if the sound he heard was the car as it raced past in front of him or the angel’s wings as he appeared to pull him out of harm’s way behind him.

“The television program we watched this morning stated that it is imperative to hold your child’s hand as he crosses the street.” His voice was harsh, but Cas was trying his best to keep from growling at Sam.

“He’s not a child,” Sam said lamely, still reeling from how differently this scene could have played out had Cas caught up with them a half second later.

“For all intents and purposes, right now, he might as well be.” Cas flashed an apologetic look down at Dean, but Dean wasn’t about to protest.

He should have known better. Why didn’t he think to look before he ran out into the street? It was such a stupid, idiotic, and downright _childish_ mistake. And it almost cost him his life. He could have died without the dignity of even being in his own body.

Dean realized he was in way over his head.

It was this realization that prevented him from protesting when Cas brushed his hand down his shoulder to take Dean's hand. Dean squeezed his fingers tightly inside the angel’s hand, and Cas squeezed back protectively. He looked down at Dean and gave him a small, sad smile.  

Dean then willingly pushed his other hand into his brother’s rough grasp to show there were no hard feelings. It wasn’t Sam’s fault that Dean had made a dumb mistake, and Dean didn’t want his brother to feel bad about it.

It was as this one singular unit, linked together by the boy Dean Winchester, that they crossed the street safely and entered the diner.


	6. Lunch Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally intended for a lot more to happen in this chapter....
> 
> More coming soon!

The three of them entered the diner together, causing a small bell above their heads to jingle.

“Sit wherever you’d like, boys,” a blonde waitress called to them from behind the counter.

Sam chose a booth in the corner and slid into the red vinyl seat.  Dean clambered up into the seat across from Sam, and Castiel scooted in next to Dean. Cas noticed how much extra space there was in the booth and found himself missing the physical closeness that is permitted when two grown men try to squeeze into diner seating. As soon as the thought flitted across his mind, it was gone again.

The waitress came over and dropped two plastic menus on the table. She put a paper placemat and a small box of crayons down in front of Dean. Sam couldn’t help notice the flash of excitement that lit up his brother’s face.

“How you boys doin’ today?” the waitress beamed at them. “You know what you want to drink? Or do you need a few minutes?”

“Actually, we’re probably ready to order,” Sam let out a polite laugh. “I’ll have the grilled chicken spinach salad,” he pointed to the first item under the under -populated ‘Healthy Choice’ heading, “And the biggest cup of coffee you have.” He thanked her and handed the menu back.

“And for you, big man,” She turned to Dean, “what’ll it be?”

“I’ll get the bacon cheeseburger,” he hadn’t even looked at the menu, but it was a diner after all, “and coffee sounds great, thanks.”

There was a brief pause, and then the waitress let out a hearty laugh.

“Oh, honey, isn’t that adorable?” she fanned herself with the menu. “Aren’t you a little young for coffee?”

Dean’s face fell.  Oh. Right. Then, his face flushed in embarrassment.  Cas resisted the urge to put an arm around the boy and soothe him.  He always wanted to protect Dean, but after nearly watching him get run over by a motor vehicle and realizing just how vulnerable he was at the moment, the mother hen instinct seemed to be turned up to eleven. Instead, Castiel just silently stared at the waitress.

She continued, but directed her question to the adults, “I’m sorry, but he can’t be more than five years old, right?”

There was another pause. Castiel met Sam’s eyes across the table. Sam knew this was the part where they should interject with how old Dean actually was, but he did not know the answer. The pause had gone on too long, but now there was no way out without saying something.

“Four,” Cas came to the rescue.  He squinted down at Dean for a moment, then added, “probably.”

“Probably?” The waitress repeated slowly, starting to feel that something was a bit off about this family unit.

Sam’s lying gear finally kicked in. He laughed, and the tension eased. “You know how it is with kids,” he gave the waitress what he hoped was the exhausted look of a first-time father. He didn’t have to stretch his imagination too much.  Sam half-wished that he was closer to Dean to give him a good hair-ruffle if it would sell the bit. “They grow up so fast.”

“I know what you mean,” she confided in them, her worries forgotten, “my little girl just turned three. I swear I was watching her crawl around the house just yesterday.” Her attention went back to Dean. “Alright big man, how about a big ol’ glass of chocolate milk instead of that nasty coffee?”

Dean lifted his eyes up from his hands. For some reason that he couldn’t quite understand, he looked at Sam first, silently asking for permission. Sam was caught off guard, but still managed to answer, “Sounds good.”

“And for you?” The waitress finally turned to Cas.

“A cup of coffee. Nothing to eat. Thank you, Lydia.”

She looked down, surprised at hearing her own name, before glancing at her nametag and feeling foolish. “Comin’ right up.” Lydia bustled away.

“Since when do you drink coffee, Cas?” Sam asked.

“I’ve been to enough of these establishments with you two to realize that it is abnormal to sit in a diner and not order anything.” He gestured to Dean, “Also, he can drink it if he’d like.”

Dean’s face split into a huge grin. Even on his much younger face, Sam recognized his brother’s “I win” look.  It was all Dean could do to keep himself from sticking out his tongue too.  

Sam thought it was time to change the subject. “Thanks again, Cas. For earlier. I… I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.”

Cas tried to brush off Sam’s gratitude.  He had saved the brothers more times that he could count--he literally pulled Dean out of Hell--but this felt different somehow.  Castiel couldn’t understand why.  Didn’t they both know he would have jumped in to help whether Dean was 4 or 45, whether the threat was a reckless driver or a vengeful vampire, whether they asked for help or not?

“It was nothing,” he said, “A close call, perhaps, but nothing happened.” Castiel glanced back over at Dean, almost as if to reassure himself that Dean was safe.  His friend had lost focus in the conversation again and was using a blue crayon to lead Steve the Syrup bottle to the stack of pancakes on the child’s placemat.

Dean felt the angel’s eyes on him, looked up at him, and smiled sheepishly.  He tried to put the crayon down inconspicuously. Dean knew he should probably be paying more attention to what the two of them were talking about, but it just took too much energy. It was easier to take the backseat on this case and trust that the combined efforts of a hunter, an Angel of the lord, and eventually Bobby could set him right in no time. He definitely felt better now that Cas was back, at any rate, and hoped the angel could use whatever strange connection they had to see that Dean did not want him leaving again.  Just in case he couldn’t, Dean reached over and grabbed at a fistful of the angel’s sleeve, hopefully enough under the table that Sam couldn’t see. Cas tilted his head in the otherworldly way he did when he was trying to understand, but he did not try to shake off Dean’s grip. Satisfied that the angel got the message, Dean used his free hand to begin trying to balance a knife on the bend of his fork. He was gone again.

Castiel let out a small sigh. He could almost see the way Dean’s mind was resetting itself.  Hopefully not losing anything, but more like filing the adult memories away into dark recesses of the brain and letting innocence of childhood flood back.  He wondered when he was allowed to tell Sam all of this.

Sam watched the silent conversation between his brother and the angel with a heavy heart.  This was nothing new, of course, but where adult Dean had always kept his feelings for Cas carefully guarded, the young Dean let his admiration shine clearly on his face.  He knew that after him, Castiel was the most important person Dean had in his life.  If he didn’t outrank Bobby at this point, he was sure that they were at least tied in Dean’s favor.  Sam had watched as Dean reached out and grabbed ahold of Cas’ trenchcoat, no matter how secretive the boy was attempting to be.

He cleared his throat to recapture Castiel’s attention. “So, did you find anything at the nest?” Back to business.

“No,” Cas replied, “It was clean--”

Just then the waitress returned to their table with drinks. “Two coffees, and the biggest chocolate milk we could find.” She placed them down.

Dean waited to give her a polite, “Thank you,” before using both hands to scoot the cup closer so he could gulp down the beverage.

“I’m sorry if this is forward of me, but are you buying a house around here?” She lingered at the table.

“No,” Sam said, confusion apparent in his face.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry. I just overheard… You said ‘nest’ and I just assumed…” Her face was flushed, and she was clearly embarrassed, but she tried to save the situation, “I was just going to say that its a great place to raise a family. There are good schools in town, and people here are very...friendly. That is, most people are very… _open minded_.” She let that word sit in front of them for a moment, hoping they’d catch her meaning.

Sam spluttered. He almost choked out ‘wrong brother’ in his surprise, but realized the joke would be lost on his current audience. Not to mention he didn’t think he could explain the “profound bond” between an Angel of the Lord and a current toddler.

“No, no, no. No. We’re not--” he gestured at the other side of the table, “That’s my brother and--”

The waitress stopped him with a laugh, “Oh. Oh, sorry. I was just trying to help. I should know better than to eavesdrop. Sorry. I should have known. The family resemblance...,” She looked at Cas and laughed again, “Oh, honey. So he’s yours?”

Sam realized the waitress had made the leap from brother to Castiel instead of Dean.  He supposed that was for the best.  Their ages didn’t exactly match up to the same father and mother anymore. This story was probably easier to use.  He was about to kick Cas under the table to remind him to answer the waitress and lie before another awkward moment could occur, when Cas spoke.

“Yes,” Castiel said, genuinely, and placed a hand on Dean’s head fondly. Dean let go of his chocolate milk in surprise but made no effort to move away. Cas ruffled his hair gently with a smile on his lips before turning back to Lydia.

There was something about that interaction that immediately calmed her flustered nerves. “You are just too cute,” She gushed once more. “Your food will be out in a sec.” With that, she made a hasty retreat back to the kitchen.

“Nice cover,” Sam said, just for the sake of saying _something_.

Cas nodded in acknowledgement and moved his hand from Dean. Even he knew he had jumped into answering that question far more readily than normal.  Still, he told himself, Dean _was_ his: his charge, his friend, his family. He had answered the question honestly.

“It was obvious that the easiest solution was just to ‘go with it’,” Cas answered.

They were careful to avoid speaking of the evidence in the case until their food came and they could be sure the waitress wouldn’t be lingering nearby with more uneasy questions. Instead, Dean and Sam played tic-tac-toe on the back of the child’s placemat. Occasionally, Dean would ask Cas where he should put his next X.  He didn’t actually need help, he thought could probably beat Sam at tic-tac-toe with his eyes closed, but he liked to make Castiel feel included.  Dean even let his brother and the angel go a few rounds themselves, and he honestly wasn’t sure who he was rooting to win. Luckily, their food got there before the game got too repetitive.

As Dean lost himself in the huge burger before him, Cas and Sam began to share their findings.

“There doesn’t look like there has been any occult activity in this area. Aside from the vampires, it’s been supernatural-free,” Sam kept his voice low and an eye on Lydia.

Castiel shifted in his seat. “Similarly, there was nothing at the vampire nest to suggest they had been been working any magic.”

“Of course, that would have been too easy.” Sam sighed and picked at his salad, quickly losin his appetite.

“I scoured that place top to bottom,” Castiel added.

“Dude, I believe you,” he raised his hands in surrender, “but that means we’re left with zero leads.”

“There may be more we are overlooking. You two have gained quite a reputation with monsters, angels, demons, and even pagan gods. Any one of them could have done this to Dean.”

“Gee, thanks, Cas. I feel much more reassured.” Sam rolled his eyes and began stabbing at his salad angrily.  Cas did have a point, though.  They weren’t exactly flying under the supernatural radar. Nevertheless, he chose to give into his insecurity and brood.

Castiel gave Sam a sour look. “I’m sure Bobby will have some fresh ideas.” He had reached the point in his dealings with the Winchesters where he would normally have flapped his wings and vanished.  There was only so much sarcasm he could take from either brother. Sometimes it was just easier to bypass the part in a case where the boys snapped at each other from the stress and Dean began to drink his worries. Castiel always found it best to return when their patience was restored, and he could be most useful without having to wade through the heavy human emotions. In fact, he was halfway to stretching out his wings before he remembered Dean beside him, blissfully unaware for the moment. Dean had made it clear, although it still remained unspoken, that he would prefer Cas to stay by his side. So that’s what he would do. He folded his wings back up and stared sullenly at his full mug of coffee. Dean had been enjoying his chocolate milk too much to remember he wanted this beverage.

Sam’s shoulders suddenly relaxed, and he let out a heavy sigh. “Sorry, Cas. I know you’re right, and I know you’re just trying to help. I’m...I’m just a little wound up from having to deal with this alone. You know, without ‘Dean’.  And there are no leads. And if we don’t solve this Dean may be stuck like this forever.” He took a deep breath and forced out the next words softly, but clearly, “And I can tell that it’s not just his body that was affected.”

Castiel slowly raised his eyes back to Sam. He was apologizing, and suddenly Cas didn’t feel as riled up. The uncomfortable tension at the table eased. Is this what he missed every time he bolted? The reconciling?

“It’s true,” Cas felt it best not to address their small fight but only the larger problem. Dean was still focused on shoveling french fries in his mouth, so the angel felt it safe to continue in a low whisper, “Dean told me this morning.”  
“Hey!” Dean spoke up suddenly.

Cas could have sworn Dean had retreated into childhood naivety again, but now he had been caught breaking his promise. Both Castiel and Sam turned guilty faces to the boy.  

Dean caught them by surprise. He apologized. “Sorry. I know you’re talking, but, um, I need something.”

He wasn’t sure how to say it. It was embarrassing. Dean knew he had interrupted something important to get their attention, but now he couldn’t make his request out loud. He squirmed in his seat and looked to the angel beside him for some nonverbal help.

“What’s wrong, Dean?” Sam tried.

“I need to, um…”   
Castiel finally came to his rescue and leaned his head down next to Dean’s. The boy cupped a hand and, face slowly reddening, whispered into the angel’s ear. Cas then straightened up and slid out of the booth.

Dean scrambled out behind him.

“Oh,” Sam remembered the two of them in the bathroom earlier that morning, “The sink.”

“We’ll be right back,” Cas called to Sam as he followed the boy towards the back of the diner and into the men’s room.

Sam really didn’t want to think about the other things that Dean would need help with later. Instead, he took the opportunity to pay for the half eaten lunch.

 

Meanwhile, Cas was waiting outside the stall while Dean did his "human functions."

“Were you talking about me at the table?” He called through the wall.

Castiel tried not to eye the other man in the restroom and gave a short, “Yes.”  He may not be fully aware of human societal customs, but he was pretty sure having this conversation, here, at this moment, with an audience was not the best course of action.  
“What about?” The boy continued.

The man was finishing up his own “human functions” at the urinal.

“Taking you to Bobby’s.”

“Oh.”

Cas hoped that was the end of it. The man had moved on to the sinks and made eye contact with him on the way over.

“Is Sam okay? He looks sad.”

Castiel stared at the ceiling while the man washed his hands. “He’s worried about you.”

“That’s dumb. I’m his big brother so _I_ should be worried about _him_.”

The man was tossing the paper towels in the trash and moving towards Cas waiting by the door. The angel couldn’t answer Dean.

The man, however, didn’t stop as he passed the angel. He made eye contact again and gave him a pitying smile.

“At least you’ve got boys,” the stranger laughed and exited the restroom.

Cas let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, and Dean finally emerged from the stall.

“I take care of Sam,” he said definitively, waiting by the sinks.

Cas silently reached down and hoisted the boy up so he could reach the soap and water.

“And you take care of me,” Dean added, catching the eye of Cas’ reflection in the mirror and grinning.

 

When the two of them emerged from the bathroom, the plates were cleared from the table. Sam stood up to meet them and held out a small plastic container.

“Thought you could use a snack for the road,” he said, handing the box to Dean.

Dean could see the golden brown crust and the bright red filling spilling out of the sides. Cherry pie! The gift earned Sam a Christmas morning smile.

“Now let’s get going. We have a long drive ahead of us.”


	7. Are We There Yet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to update every couple of days, but this chapter was tough to get through. 
> 
> More soon!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

The three of them piled into the Impala. Dean had briefly put up a fight about having to sit in the back, but, after Sam explained that “I’m pretty sure the law requires someone of your, um, size to use a booster seat” and “I’m not going to make you, but let’s not actively _tempt_ the police,” Dean had begrudgingly climbed into the back seat.

Cas slid into the passenger seat. Dean all but pouted.

 

The hours and miles ticked away, but far too slowly for everyone involved.  

At first, Dean was fine.  He was happy to be moving again even if he wasn’t fully aware of the problem at hand. More importantly, Sam seemed to be in a better mood.  He had a determined look on his face, that much Dean could see from his reflection in the rearview mirror, but his body looked relaxed.  Sam even let Dean’s music play from the car stereo, albeit at a much lower volume than Dean would prefer.  Sam was glad he had an immediate task now: get to Bobby’s.

Dean was glad Sam was looking a bit less upset.

Dean was also glad he had pie.

He used the plastic fork from the diner and took careful bites of the dessert, trying to make it last. If he was very careful, he might be able to stretch this out the entire car ride. It was gone before they left the town limits.  Castiel glanced back at him and his crestfallen expression and quickly stifled a chuckle.

 

Soon, Dean realized that this new body had also come with its own new limitations. After they were only two and a half hours into the drive, he began to squirm in his seat.

“You alright back there,” Sam asked, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled back.

“Do we need to stop?”

“Why would we need to stop?” Castiel interjected, annoyance dripping from his words, “This is taking too long as it is. I still don’t understand why you won’t just let me _bring_ you there.”

“I just don’t think it’ll be good for him,” Sam shot a glare at the passenger seat. “We don’t understand anything this ‘curse’ or whatever, and we know that kind of travel doesn’t sit well with an adult let alone a toddler.”

“If you are referring to the digestive discomfort---”

“Of course that’s what I’m talking about, Cas!”

The yelling drowned out the Led Zeppelin in the background, and Dean sighed. He was forgotten about again.  He closed his eyes tight, attempting to drown out the argument, and tried not to squirm. Something stirred in a dark corner of his mind. Something waking up. Something fighting desperately.

Oh.

“SHUT THE HELL UP!” Dean bellowed from the backseat.

The front seat shut the hell up immediately.

“Shit,” Dean pressed a hand to his forehead. His head was pounding. It was hard to concentrate. How long had he forgotten this time?

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice was heavy with concern. The angel was trying to maneuver himself to get a better view at the boy, craning his neck to see him fully.

“Yeah, it’s me. Well, it’s always me, but now it’s _me_ me.” He sighed, “Sorry I didn’t tell you, Sammy.”

“It’s okay,” Sam gulped, trying to keep one eye on his brother and another on the road in front of him. “Wasn’t very hard to figure out. You took an interest in coloring.”

“What can I say? I’m an artist at heart,” Dean let out a small, pained laugh. His head was reeling and the world was spinning, “Shit.” He took a breath and tried to focus. It was only a matter of time before he’d be pushed back under. “You two. Cut it out. I’d really hate to have the literal baby do the babysitting. I get it, this is not an ideal situation, but I need you guys to take point on this.  I’m trusting you two to figure this out. I’m just a little... occupied at the moment.”

“Dean,” Sam started, but Dean didn’t let him finish.

“One: Don’t let Cas drive my baby. No offense, buddy, but I don’t think they make you parallel park before they hand out angel IDs. Two,” he bit back a wave of pain, and shut his eyes, “Two: Make sure I don’t do anything stupid, like walk into traffic or cry. Three: Pull the damn car over and let me take a leak.”

Then, the pressure building up behind his eyes dissipated. His head was still throbbing, but the pain was gone. His heart felt heavy, like he was missing something important.

Castiel was squinting hard at him, something unreadable behind his blue eyes. Dean could see something similar in his brother’s face in the rearview mirror. He felt his stomach twist. What did he miss? What had he done wrong?

“Sorry,” Dean said reflexively, “We don’t have to stop. I can hold it.”

“We can stop, Dean,” Sam said gently and turned his eyes to the road ahead, “Let me just find a gas station or something.”

“Are you feeling alright?” The angel’s voice was deep, but quiet and soothing.

“My head hurts a little. And my stomach. But not _that_ much, I promise.” He tried to put on a brave face for his friend.

Cas nodded, but did not look away from Dean.

 

A few minutes later, they pulled into a rest stop off the highway. The parking lot was filled with minivans of crying children, weary commuters in affordable cars, and a few coach buses. The Impala stood out and seemed to be attracting a lot of attention.

Well it was either the Impala or the kid currently puking his guts out onto the pavement.

“Dean!” Sam shouted and launched out of the driver’s seat.

Dean retched again and briefly thought that the diner food had tasted much better going in.

Castiel was at his side, looking slightly lost, one hand inches from the boy’s back, as if trying to decide if physical contact would help or hurt at this moment.

Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared sullenly at the puddle of red.

“Why did it have to be the pie?” He moaned sadly.

“I’ll cover bathroom duty this time,” Sam said, jumping into action and scooping Dean up in his arms. “I’ve dealt with drunk AND hungover Dean enough. _This_ is almost normal.”

“It was good pie.” Dean frowned, but didn’t put up a fight as Sam carried him into the building.

Castiel stood patiently by the car, avoiding the accusatory stares from the people who had seen the whole even.  He tried not to see them look pointedly at the spreading puddle of waste and then at him in succession.  When he didn’t acknowledge them or make any effort to clean up the vomit, and honestly he had no idea how to do so without drawing more attention, the onlookers huffed angrily and stalked away.

The angel had never felt more useless.

Eventually, Sam returned from the building with Dean in tow.  They were holding hands, so perhaps there was hope for Sam’s parenting skills. In his other hand, Sam held a plastic bag from the store inside.

“Feeling better?” Cas asked Dean, trying not to see how pale his skin looked.

Dean nodded. “I don’t know what happened. Sorry about the mess.”

Sam shrugged, “No worries, Dean. Honestly, it’s probably just car sickness.”  
“I’ve never had that before!”

“You did overexert yourself in the car earlier. Perhaps the internal battle is not entirely mental,” Cas guessed, tilting his head slightly as he examined the boy.

Dean wasn’t one hundred percent sure he knew what the angel was referring to, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Cas, do you mind sitting in the back with Dean?” Sam asked, handing the shopping bag to the angel. “There’s a trash bag and some water in there. If he has to puke again, make sure it’s in the bag and not on the upholstery. We were lucky this time, but I don’t want to deal with Dean’s wrath later.”

“Of course, Sam. Whatever he needs. Whatever you need,” Cas corrected himself.

“If it’s an accident, that’s okay,” Dean offered and patted Sam’s hand with his free one. “I won’t be mad at an accident, but my baby’s a lady and needs to be treated like one.”

Sam actually laughed at that. So Dean was still in there somewhere after all.

Dean climbed back in the car, and Castiel slid in next to him. There was much more room in the backseat than there was in the booth at the diner, but Dean chose to sit mere inches from Cas. He patted the angel’s hand like he had with Sam moments earlier.

“I won’t throw up on you, buddy,” Dean smiled up at Cas.

“I will understand if you do,” Cas replied seriously, but Dean giggled.

He actually giggled.

Sam looked up, startled at the noise. He thought of making a joke, but let the moment pass. His brother was happy.

 

The rest of the impromptu road trip passed more smoothly than the first leg of the journey.  Dean only had to break for the bathroom one more time, and even Sam was grateful for the chance to stretch his legs this time.  Despite the fact that the danger of a second bout of “motion sickness” had passed, Castiel climbed back into the backseat of the Impala when they returned from the bathroom.

They passed the time by telling Dean stories.  Both brother and angel offered him tales of the adventures the Winchesters had been a part of, and the people that they had saved.

Dean had started off by pulling faces and giving the angel next to him sour looks, saying, “I know this one.”

Eventually, though, he simply let them finish the stories uninterrupted. As they reached the final stretch of their journey, Sam glanced back in the rearview mirror.  The night was dark and the road empty, but at that moment a passing car’s headlights briefly illuminated the pair. Dean had fallen asleep curled up against Castiel’s side. His hand was clutching the worn trenchcoat as if afraid his friend might not be there when he woke up. The angel had one arm around the boy’s back and was looking down at his charge with the most open adoration Sam had ever seen.  It was also the most vulnerable he had ever seen Castiel, and Sam quickly turned his eyes back to the road, feeling as if he had intruded.

 

The Impala finally turned into Singer Auto Repair just as the clock struck midnight.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam whispered and watched the angel’s head snap up, his face a stone wall again, “I don’t want to wake him. Think you can carry him while I get the bags?”

Castiel nodded, not trusting the rumble of his voice and the sleeping figure behind him.  With careful hands and graceful movements, the angel pulled the boy into his arms and stepped out of the car. Dean simply pressed his face further into the trenchcoat, but did not otherwise stir.

‘I’ll fix this,’ Cas thought to himself, as he watched the slow and steady rise and fall of Dean’s chest as he slept. ‘I’ll put you right.’

 

“Hey, Bobby, we’re here,” Sam called as he opened the unlocked front door and stepped into the home. Cas shuffled in a few steps behind him.

They paused in the entryway, both a bit hesitant to charge into the house.  They could hear a rustling of papers, and a heavy tome slamming shut.

After what felt like an eternity listening to the heavy footsteps, Bobby finally came into view. The brim of his worn baseball cap cast a shadow over his eyes, but there was no mistaking the disapproval in his expression.

There was a pregnant pause while Bobby sized them up, taking in the sleeping figure in the angel’s arms.

“Now what in the hell kind of mess have you boys got yourselves into this time?”

Castiel, Angel of the Lord, dropped his head in shame.


	8. Inception

Bobby let his words settle on the two figures in the doorway. No one spoke for a tense minute before Bobby broke the silence.

“Don’t just stand there,” Bobby said gruffly, but there was no real anger in his voice. He waved at Castiel, “Bring him over here, let me get a look at him.”  
The angel gladly obliged, and Sam shut the door behind them.  Bobby looked down at the sleeping boy in Castiel’s arms and let out a long breath.

“Balls,” he whispered under his breath.  

There was no denying it.  This was Dean. This was the same freckled face boy that he had met when a stranger named John Winchester showed up on his doorstep all those years ago tugging two boys behind him. Granted this was a Dean much younger than Bobby had ever seen him, but he liked to think he would recognize his boy anywhere. There was also something different about the expression on the sleeping child’s face that Bobby didn’t recognize. He had tucked those boys in more times than he could count and soothed them back to sleep when they had woken in the night with images of their father’s most recent hunts seared into their dreams. Even on the best of days, Dean’s face would twist with worry, his mouth turned down in a frown as he battled the demons in his sleep. But the boy he saw in the angel’s arms now slept peacefully. There was a smile on his lips as he dreamed.

For a split second, Bobby thought about snatching the boy from the arms of the angel and running. Forgetting about whatever curse had touched him. Forgetting about the monsters in the dark. This boy was happy. This boy had a chance at something normal, or at least as close to normal as a kid could get. Bobby wanted nothing more than to protect that smile.

But, he restrained himself and let the impulse go.  His loyalty was to _both_ Winchesters. And he knew neither of them would be happy, let alone survive long, without the other. Also, he was pretty certain that angel would tear Heaven, Hell, and Earth apart looking for Dean. He would never make it as far as the car.

Instead, Bobby smoothed the hair back from the boy’s forehead in a surprisingly tender gesture.

“I’ve got a lot of questions, but they can wait ‘til morning. I made the bed in the spare room upstairs.” Bobby dropped his hand and shuffled off back into the living room.

Sam was fast on his heels.

It took Castiel a moment to realize that he had been given an order. He wished desperately to just flap his wings and be upstairs, but respected Sam too much to ignore his concerns. Dean had already been sick once.  Castiel was forced to take the human route.  He trudged up the stairs, lamenting the limits of this physical universe. Then, the body in his arms shifted slightly, and he felt the weight of the precious cargo he carried. There are some things are worth taking the long route for, Castiel decided.

He shouldered open the door to the bedroom and gently placed the sleeping boy on the bed.  Castiel was struck by just how small the boy looked swallowed up in the large bed.  He had spent enough time watching over Dean as he slept to know that the hunter usually fell asleep like this, fully clothed and on top of the covers.  The thought somehow upset Cas now. He undid the laces on the boots that he had tied that morning and slid them off as carefully as he could.  Dean did not wake up.

That looks better, Cas thought as he put the shoes neatly on the floor by the foot of the bed, but he wasn’t satisfied. He grabbed a worn woolen blanket from the chair it was draped over and turned it out over Dean, letting it slowly settle on his small body.  For good measure, the angel tucked it up under the boy’s chin. He gave himself a private, satisfied smile.

Castiel knew he should rejoin Bobby and Sam downstairs, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dean.  Watching the steady rise and fall of the boy’s chest as he lay in bed caused Cas’ stomach to knot in worry.  Dean looked vulnerable.  Castiel may have seen the man vulnerable before, perhaps more than even Sam was allowed, but each time was a conscious choice by Dean to let the angel in.  Now, the boy wore every emotion as plainly on his face as his freckles. And it made Castiel nervous.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his hand over his face. “I’ve done it again. I’ve...I’ve screwed it all up.”

In the midst of his bout of despair and self-loathing, an idea sprang to mind. Dean’s trust of the angel allowed him certain privileges, like the ability to appear in his dreams.  Castiel couldn’t be sure what he would find inside Dean’s head, but he was sure his friend was in there somewhere. Maybe he would be able to reach him.

 

Castiel found himself in the passenger seat of the Impala as it flew down an empty road in the moonlight surrounded on both sides by dense woods.  He looked to the driver’s side and found Dean.  The full grown, war-wearied, chin stubble, carrying the weight of the world man, Dean Winchester.  Castiel felt a warm glow of happiness spread throughout him. It had worked.

“Hello, Dean,” he said softly, trying his best not to startle the man.  They had talked about that.

Dean didn’t jump. Instead, he glanced briefly at the passenger and pulled the car over to the side of the road.

The hunter let out a loud sigh and bent over to rest his forehead on the steering wheel. Castiel could see him working hard to hold something back.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said after a moment, but his voice still broke slightly, “It’s a little… messed up in my gourd right now, a little broken.  Sorry.” He breathed again, trying to steady his voice. “I feel like I’ve been driving in circles forever, and, man, I’m beat. I get that I’m probably dreaming, believe me, I know what that feels like at this point, but it doesn’t feel like _my_ dream.”

Cas just let him talk, not wanting to interrupt.  He knew this was serious, something was definitely off about this dreamscape, but there was a part of the angel that was happy just to be sitting next to him.

“Anyway,” Dean continued. “This is the first time I’ve felt like you’re hearing me. Hell, I’m not even sure prayers work in a dream. But you’ve got to help me, buddy. Figure this out and put me back together. You’ve done it before. Shit, I feel like… Princess Leia in here, praying to you. But I need you, Obi-Wan.”

He let out a pained laugh that did a poor job covering a sob. Castiel had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Dean,” the angel said quickly, his composure breaking, “Dean. I’m here. I’m helping. I’ll fix you.” He put his hand on the hunter’s shoulder, but there was no reaction.

“Dean!” Cas shook the shoulder gently at first, but then with more vigor. “Dean, please answer me.”  
This shouldn’t be happening. Dean was right there in front of him. He should be able to hear Castiel, see him, speak to him in the dream. Cas pulled his hand away as if burned. This was worse than he could have imagined. The angel sat in stunned silence listening to his friend sniff back his fears and steady his breathing.

“Psst.”

The whisper came from somewhere in the thick, dark woods to Castiel’s right.  There was someone else in Dean’s dream. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he were to battle this foe inside Dean’s mind, but he was too incensed to care.  Castiel stepped out of the Impala and slid the long silver blade into his hand.

He closed his eyes and felt out the woods with his mind, trying to locate the intruder. They were right in front of him, and---

He felt like Dean.

Castiel’s fury faltered, and he snapped his eyes opened, confused.

“Cas, please don’t hurt me,” a trembling voice called out from the woods.

“I wouldn’t,” Castiel called back, tucking his blade away and showing the small shadowed figure his empty hands. “I did not expect to find you here.”

“It is my dream,” came the sniffled reply.

Out from the woods came the child Dean, clutching a flashlight as he cautiously approached the angel.

“You can’t be here,” The boy said quietly, eyeing the Impala and the figure still slumped over the steering wheel.

“Why? And why can he not see me?”

“Because it’s bad,” Dean had reached Castiel’s side, and slipped his hand up into the angel’s as if it was second nature by now. “Come on,” he tugged lightly trying to steer Cas away, “I’ll tell you. But not here.”

Castiel sighed sadly and gave one last forlorn look at the Impala as he allowed himself to be led by his younger friend.

As they trudged into the woods, the sky lightened and the sound of birdsong filled the air.

“It’s better here,” Dean chirped happily, climbing over fallen trees and rocks while using Castiel’s hand to steady himself. When he had climbed to the top of a rather large rock, he dropped the angels hand and plopped himself down. He was seated at the edge of the rock, closer to eye-level with Cas, swinging his legs mindlessly through the open air.

“This is a dream, right?” The boy asked, eyeing Cas suspiciously, “but you’re not dream-you, you’re real-you?”

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel answered meeting the boy’s gaze. He had to remind himself that, while he may miss his hunter, this boy is still his friend.

“Okay. Well, I put him, um, big-me over there. There’s something in here,” Dean tapped the side of his head, “that doesn’t like him--me--stomping around. I think they wanna get rid of him. But he’s part of me!  He is me. And he’s important to you and Sam. So I wanna save him.”

Castiel smiled at that. Even at his purest, most innocent core, Dean was the same brave, selfless man Cas had always known.

“But there’s a lot of bad stuff--scary stuff over there,” Dean shivered just thinking about it and stared hard at the ground, “I don’t understand a lot of it, but it’s his--mine. And Sam’s and yours. I won’t let him go away, okay? I promise.”

The boy brought his bright green eyes up to meet the angel’s blue. “I promise I’ll protect him, Cas.”  
“I believe you.” Cas gave the boy a smile and earned a toothy grin in response. “You should dream in peace now, Dean. I should go talk to your brother and Bobby.”

“We’re at Bobby’s?” Dean’s whole face lit up, and he quickly jumped to his feet.

“Yes,” Castiel watched the boy’s footing on the boulder carefully. He was fairly certain the boy couldn’t die in his own dream, but the angel wasn’t taking any changes. “You can see him when you wake up.”

“Awesome,” Dean wiggled in excitement. “Help me down, please?” He asked, holding his arms out for the angel.

When Cas reached out for the boy, Dean threw his arms around the angels’ neck in a tight embrace.

“Dean?” Cas asked, concerned, hefting the boy’s weight into his arms.

“He misses you a lot,” Dean whispered, “I feel it. So I miss you too. Don’t leave me. Please.”

Castiel was stunned into silence for a moment. Dean had never asked him to stay before. He had read it in his eyes before, in the way his hand would linger for a moment on his shoulder before Cas would take flight, but he had never said the words out loud. Castiel wondered if they still counted in a dream.

“I won’t,” Cas whispered back, holding the boy tighter in his arms, “Not until you’re better.”

Dean pulled his head back from where he had buried it in Castiel’s neck. He pushed their foreheads together and stared into the angel’s eyes.

“Good,” the boy said seriously, “We can talk about after later.”

Castiel let out a small chuckle, “One step at a time.”

He put the boy back on the ground and smoothed his hair back.

“Sweet dreams, Dean,” Castiel said and disappeared.

 

Bobby and Sam were sitting in the living room drinking beer when Castiel reappeared in front of them.

He knew he had probably been upstairs with Dean for longer than it should have taken to put him to bed, but both men had enough courtesy not to ask.

“So,” Bobby started, taking a long swig of the beer, “What did you two dig up?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Sam sighed, “No witch activity, no supernatural activity of any kind besides those vampires we ganked.”

Bobby shook his head and waiting for Sam to continue.

“There were no hex bags in the motel room, and Cas checked the vampire nest just in case. Neither of us have any idea what could have done this to Dean. He says he just went straight back to the motel after the vampires, and I don’t have a reason not to believe him.”

“Well, there goes the easy answer,” Bobby took another gulp of his drink, “but obviously somethin’ had it out for your brother, and we’re gonna find out what.”

Bobby turned his eyes to the angel who was still standing stone still in the spot where he materialized.

“Anything to add, grumpy?”

Castiel let the question linger in the air for a moment. He took a deep breath, straightened his back and said, in a calm voice, “This is my fault. I did it. I am the reason Dean has... regressed.”

There was a stunned silence before either man could fully process the words.

“What?” Sam breathed, the anger having failed to catch up to his brain.

Cas’ reply was cut off by a loud scream from upstairs.

“Dean!” Bobby and Sam shouted in unison, dropping their beer, and rushing to their feet.

Castiel had already disappeared.

 


	9. Bad Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I had a busy week.   
> This is a short chapter, but there's a longer one coming later tonight or tomorrow. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me!

Sam charged up the stairs faster than he thought possible, with Bobby following a few feet behind. He could still hear Dean’s screams in front of him, and even though the sound nearly broke his heart, it meant that his brother was still alive. Sam wasn’t sure what creature could have snuck up on Bobby’s house unaware, but he hoped it would be easily killed before…

No.

He wouldn’t think about it.

Sam reached the bedroom door and threw it open, spilling light from the hallway into the dark.  He caught a glimpse of a trenchcoated silhouette and saw the glint of an angel’s blade in his  hand. He saw his brother huddled in a ball on the bed, letting out terrified shouts through the tears streaming down his face, a hand outstretched towards the angel.

“Castiel!” Sam shouted, trying to draw the angel away from his brother. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the situation fast enough. What had Castiel done?

The angel whipped around at the sound, his face an open display of horror, confusion, and immense sorrow, but he was gone before Sam could speak again.

Sam couldn’t concern himself with the missing angel with Dean still a sobbing mess on the bed.  He rushed to his brother and tried to look him over for injuries.

“Dean?” he asked breathlessly, his eyes wildly searching the small body, “Dean, what happened?”

Dean threw himself at Sam, wrapped his arms around his brother, and buried his face in his shirt. Sam let out his fear in a sigh of relief. Dean was still in one piece. Sam began rubbing his brother’s back in a soothing gesture.

“Hey, there,” Sam said, softer this time, bringing back memories of when he was smaller and Dean took care of him.

Bobby stood rooted in the doorway and made eye contact with Sam.  It was clear that he was just as lost as Sam as to what had happened, but Bobby was obviously not pleased.

Sam had a hard time believing the angel could have harmed Dean, but hadn’t he just confessed to the crime of the curse not five minutes ago?

Dean’s sobs finally began to slow. “It was a bad dream,” he choked out between breaths, “There was… fire everywhere. It was dark and everything hurt. It was bad.”

The boy was fighting to control his tears. He knew he should be putting on a brave face for Sammy, but it felt so safe here in his brother’s arms. Dean couldn’t stop himself from babbling on, and even he knew half of it wasn’t making any sense.

“Cas was there, but then he left, and I thought I’d check on other me, ‘cause he’s so sad, but there’s a lot of bad stuff over there. Then the bad dream started, and it was all wrong, and…” His voice came out in a quiet whisper that Sam had to strain to hear, “it was so real.”

Sam couldn’t make sense of the words spilling out of his brother’s mouth. Instead, he simply continued soothing the trembling mass in his arms. Sam caught Bobby’s eye again and shook his head.

“What did Cas do?”

“Nothing!” Dean said earnestly, not realizing the question wasn’t meant for him. He pulled himself back from Sam’s embrace. “He just surprised me is all.” Dean sniffed again and rubbed his red eyes. He turned around to address the angel, “Sorry, Cas--”

Dean stopped and felt his words catch in his throat when he saw the empty space in the room where his angel once stood. His little face fell.

Even Bobby felt his heart begin to ache at the utter despair on the kid’s face.

“He--he promised,” Dean became more panicked and pushed Sam away from him. The tears he had been fighting sprung back into his eyes. “Cas! Cas! You promised!” He shouted at the empty air.

There was a heavy pause, and Sam could have sworn he was about to see the angel make an embarrassed return.

But nothing happened.

Dean made a terrified, broken sound and crumpled back in on himself, a sobbing mess once again.

“Dean,” Sam reached a hand out to comfort his brother once again.

Then, a quiet whimper escaped the boy’s mouth that made Sam’s hand freeze and his heart stop.

“I want mom.”

Sam pulled his hand back quickly and took a sharp breath in.

“Yeah,” he said softly, his eyes stinging, “me too.”

“Alright,” came the gruff voice of Bobby from the door. He had seen enough. No matter how old they were, you leave these two boys alone together, and they’re bound to cross a line eventually. “Sam, why don’t you try and get some sleep yourself? I’ll put the kid back to bed.”  
Sam nodded, mute, and walked quickly from the room. Bobby gave him a heavy, but reassuring pat on the back as he passed.

“Hey, kiddo,” Bobby said as he came closer to sit on the bed next to Dean. He pulled the boy into his arms in a practiced gesture. “Let it all out. Nothin’s gonna get you here, boy.”

His calloused hands smoothed the hair back from Dean’s forehead and rubbed the boy’s back as he cried. After a while the tears slowed again, and the sobs quieted. Bobby could tell the kid was drifting back off to sleep again. Hopefully to fewer nightmare-fueled dreams.

As he drifted off, Dean mumbled with a hint of worry, “Sam?”

“He’ll be fine,” Bobby reassured him, moving him off his lap and back onto the bed. He pulled the covers back to put him between the sheets this time.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered, trying to fight back sleep.

“He knows you didn’t mean it, kid.” Bobby tucked the sheets up under his chin. “Now get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Dean nodded and curled up on his side, burrowing into the covers.

Bobby sighed and forced himself to stand up, feeling several joints creak in protest. He had already raised this boy once and was even too old then. Now, he was practically ancient. Bobby made his way slowly out into the hallway. Just before he was about to shut the door behind him he heard a soft whisper from Dean that he knew was not meant for him.

“Dear, Cas. Please come back. You promised. Love, Dean.”  His prayer complete, Dean let sleep take him.

Bobby shut the door as quietly as he could.  He leaned back against the wall and sent his own prayer to the angel.

“Castiel, you damned angel. You get your feathered ass back here and give us a goddamn explanation or so help me I will hunt you down and drag you through heaven, hell, or holy oil to bring you back to this boy.”

  
But Castiel did not reappear.


	10. Hitting the Books

Dean woke up the next morning to the sunlight streaming in the windows. He blinked sleepily a few times, enjoying the warm cocoon of blankets and the soft mattress beneath him. Suddenly, the events of the night before came flooding back.

He sat straight up in bed and surveyed the room.

No Castiel.

Dean was not going to be deterred. He tossed his covers off and climbed out of bed. He padded down the hall in his socks and glanced in every door he could open. He even checked the linen closet for good measure, but there were only a few threadbare towels on the shelves and boxes of Bobby’s books stacked on the bottom.

No Castiel.

Dean knew he would had to be back. Cas had told him he wouldn’t leave.  Of course, it had technically been in his dream, but Dean was pretty sure it still counted. He silently descended the stairs, pausing halfway down as he heard voices in the kitchen.  The voices were slightly muffled, so Dean couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. He thought he caught his name and Cas’ once or twice.

Feeling a bit more hopeful, Dean bounded down the rest of the steps and made his way into the kitchen.  His brother was slouched over a bowl of cereal, and Bobby was leaning up against the counter with a cup of coffee. The smell wasn’t nearly as enticing as it once was.

“--And our only lead is AWOL and possibly trying to murder him--”

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty,” Bobby interrupted Sam, shooting a smile at Dean.

Dean opened his mouth to reply, but yawned instead. Maybe he wasn’t as awake as he thought.

First things first though. Dean walked over to Sam and threw his arms around whatever part of him that he could reach.

“I’m sorry for last night, Sammy,” Dean frowned, trying to give his brother the most sincere puppy dog face he could muster, “I didn’t mean it.”

“Hey,” Sam dropped his spoon and put his arm around his brother, “No apology necessary. We’re good. It was a long day for everyone.”

Dean beamed up at Sam before his attention was quickly stolen away by the grumbling of his stomach. He hadn’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday, and that meal had made a spontaneous exit from his body. He was starving.

Bobby laughed from across the kitchen, hearing Dean’s stomach growl.

“Guess you’ll be wanting breakfast then. Cereal good?”

Dean nodded, and Bobby set his coffee mug down on the counter to pour the boy a bowl.  Dean took the opportunity to not-so-subtly look around the kitchen. There was no sign of the angel. He began to move towards the living room to take a peek in what he hoped was an inconspicuous manner.

“Where are you going, boy?” Bobby called to him, putting his cereal bowl on the table, “Come and eat your breakfast before it gets soggy.”

Dean dutifully returned to the table and clambered up into a chair. He spooned a few mouthfuls of the sugary cereal into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

In the most nonchalant way he could muster, Dean asked, “Where’s Cas?” before filling his mouth up again.

There was a long silence in the kitchen as Dean chewed his mouthful. He briefly glanced up to see a look pass between his brother and Bobby.

“Dean,” Sam started, gently, “We’re not sure. Neither of us have seen him since yesterday.”  
“Oh,” Dean said simply and stared at his cereal.  All of a sudden, he didn’t feel that hungry anymore.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” Bobby shrugged, unable to stand the hollowed out expression of despair on the young boy’s face, “he always does.”  
Sam shot an angry look to Bobby, but didn’t disagree. He wasn’t about to take any last shred of hope from Dean.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, but didn’t sound convinced. He poked at his cereal with the spoon for a bit, but couldn’t bring himself to swallow another bite.

 

The day passed slowly. With no leads to go on, Bobby and Sam were left to sift through every page of Bobby’s nearly limitless literary resources. Dean, to his credit, did the best he could to help.  He mostly flipped through the books slowly, trying to make sense of the complicated words and diagrams.  He considered each page carefully until he reached the last, then snuck the book into the pile that Sam was working through. While Dean wasn’t providing much help this way, at least nothing important could be missed.

They took a break for lunch, and Dean just picked at his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  He didn’t really feel like eating much. Sam and Bobby had tried to keep his mind off the missing angel, but Dean didn’t feel much like talking either.  He hadn’t said a word since that morning’s breakfast unless asked a direct question.  Even then, his answers were as short and noncommittal as he could make them without being rude.

 

They worked through their books until night fell, and Sam and Bobby’s eyes were sore from squinting at illegible text all day. Sam had run out an hour earlier to pick up dinner from the first drive through he found, and Dean was now curled up around his half eaten hamburger, snoring softly.

“I think that’s all we’re gonna accomplish today,” Bobby sighed, forcing himself to his feet. “I’ll put the kid to bed.”

“I’ve got it,” Sam offered, gently lifting the sleeping boy into his arms, “Though we should probably try and get him into a bath or something tomorrow.”

“As I recall, neither of you were big fans of baths growing up, but we can at least hose him down outside. Get the stink off him.”

Sam caught Bobby’s eye and saw the smirk plastered on his face.  He laughed.  With that one sound, the worry that had built up in his gut over the course of the past few days seemed to fade. They may not have their “that was easy” button angel, but they still had Bobby. And Bobby hadn’t let them down yet.

“I’m sure he’ll love that,” Sam rolled his eyes and turned to the stairs.

Dean stirred in his arms and turned his face towards Sam.

“Bed time?” He asked through a yawn.

“Oh yeah,” Sam replied, shifting his weight in his arms. “We’re all beat. It was a very exhausting day.”

“Pretty boring too,” Dean smiled. “Did we find what we were looking for?”

“Not yet, but we have a few good leads.”

“Good.” Dean nuzzled closer into Sam’s shirt, caught right on the edge of sleep so as not to pull away out of instinct. Besides, it felt good to rely on other people for a change. “Did Cas come back?”

Sam pretended not to hear the question, and Dean wasn’t quite awake enough to repeat it.

When they reached the bedroom, Sam helped him change into a set of flannel pajamas that he had bought the other day. Sam had guessed the size wrong, so they were a little too big on Dean’s small frame, but Dean snuggled into them all the same. Sam thought briefly about asking Dean to brush his teeth, but figured they could cross that bridge when they dealt with the bath issue tomorrow.

As Sam was helping Dean under the covers, Dean started with the questions again.

“Sammy,” He tried to make a serious face, but his eyes seemed to refuse to stay open. “When I get big again, do you think I’ll be taller than you this time?”

Sam laughed and ruffled his brother’s hair affectionately. “Not likely.”

“I wanted to be the big brother,” Dean frowned.

“You’ll always be my big brother,” Sam smiled, “No matter how ‘big’ you are.”

“‘Kay,” Dean’s eyes were closed now, but he smiled too. “Night, Sammy.”

“Good night, Dean.” Sam stood up and moved towards the door.

“Sammy,” Dean called out before Sam could shut the door completely. “Will you tell Cas good night too when he comes back? If he’s not in my dreams?”

Sam considered ignoring this question like he had the last one. Dean was probably far past actually remembering any answer he gave, but he answered anyway. “Of course, Dean. I’ll tell him.”

 

But Castiel did not come back.

 

Dean woke up again the next morning, just as eager to greet his missing friend as he had been the previous morning. He bounced out of bed, leapt down the stairs, and practically slid into the kitchen.  The sight before him was almost an exact replica of the scene the morning before, although he was pretty sure Sam and Bobby were wearing different clothes.

Dean looked around the kitchen, but only counted two bodies.

“Oh,” He said, before realizing he was speaking out loud.

The sound drew the attention of his brother and Bobby.

“You got him into pajamas?” Bobby chucked and raised an eyebrow at Sam.

“Good morning, Dean,” Sam smiled at his brother. “Would you like some cereal?”

Dean gave the room one more sweep, decided it was definitely angel-free, and sighed.

“Yeah, okay,” He said, and climbed into a chair.   
He ate a few spoonfuls while he could feel Sam and Bobby’s eyes on him, but eventually they  moved into the living room to return to their research.  Dean pushed the half full bowl of cereal away and slid off of the chair. He could not commit to another day of pretending to read the dusty tomes that filled Bobby’s house. His brain would almost certainly turn to mush.

Dean also didn’t want to be in the way though. He knew that if he hung around the two of them without helping, one of them would snap at him eventually.  Dean could entertain himself, keep busy, and stay out from under their feet. That way, everyone wins. He pulled up on the pajama bottoms that threatened to fall and slipped out of the kitchen.

Neither Bobby nor Sam looked up from their books.


	11. LOST

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient!  
> I started a new job and got a bit overwhelmed with work.  
> Fear not, though. I have not forgotten about this story. I have the next chapter penned out on post-its, so I will be updating just as soon as I can transcribe them. 
> 
> You all are the best!

A few hours passed, and Sam’s stomach growled to signal that it was lunch time.

“I think it’s time for a sandwich break,” he declared, pushing the book on minor gods and goddesses as far away from his as possible without falling off the desk.

“Agreed,” Bobby snapped his own book shut, “Dean, is peanut butter--”

The unfinished question hung in the air as Bobby realized the boy was not in the room.

“Sam, where’s your brother?” He asked, not ready to panic just yet, but with enough concern in his voice to make Sam take notice.

“Dean?” Sam called out, hoping to hear his brother answer. When there was no response, Sam shrugged and looked at Bobby, “I don’t know. He wouldn’t have just wandered off, would he?”

Regardless of his new body, Dean was still fundamentally Dean in all the ways that counted.  And who was Sam trying to kid? If Dean was in a mood, as he certainly had been after waking up to find his best friend missing, he wouldn’t think twice about wandering off to sulk.  Sam just had to hope that he hadn’t gone too far.

“Of course he would have, the idjit,” Bobby answered, nudging the bowl of mush that had once been cereal, “And he’s still not eating. Sounds like upset Dean alright.”

“May he just went upstairs to take a nap?” Sam hoped, despite the gut feeling in his stomach telling him otherwise.

He went upstairs and peered in each room, hoping to catch a glimpse of his sleeping brother.  Sam called out Dean’s name, but still received no answer.

Bobby was doing the same thing in all the rooms downstairs with a similar result.  No Dean.

Sam came pounding down the stairs, panic now settling over him.  One look at Bobby told him all he needed to know about his success before he even asked the question.

But he still had to ask.

“Where is he, Bobby?” Sam breathed.

If they had just _lost_ him, Sam didn’t know how he could ever forgive himself. Dead was one thing. Dead was going down fighting. Lost was another thing entirely.  Lost was just plain carelessness. Just stupidity.

“C’mon, Sam. We’re going to find him.” Bobby clapped Sam reassuringly on the shoulder. “Frankly, it’s a miracle you two have survived this long.”

The two of them then took to scouring the yard and scrap yard beyond.  Maybe Dean had gotten lost or trapped among the heaps of rusted car parts.  They even took the Impala around the neighborhood, calling out Dean’s name like he was a lost dog.

Eventually, the two weary hunters had to face the inevitable and return to the house. Empty-handed. The sun was beginning to set, and Sam had worked himself into a frenzy of worry.

Bobby was the opposite. Just quietly seething.

“Balls,” the man growled under his breath and strode over to the phone.

“Who are you calling?” Sam started.

“The tooth fairy,” Bobby tried to joke, but let the bit drop all too quickly. “I think we may actually need _real_ authorities on this one. Some hunters we are…”

“Hold on, Bobby,” Sam snatched the phone from Bobby’s hands and slammed it down. “How do we explain this to them? How do we explain him at all? We haven’t had any time to fake paperwork for him. Who’s to say they’re not going to think _we’re_ the ones who took him in the first place?”

“What other option is there?” Bobby snarled.

Sam pulled away and muttered, “Just… just let me think.”

Bobby’s face softened, but before he could try to console him, Sam moved away.

“Castiel!” Sam shouted at the ceiling. “ We need you to come back now. I know you had something to do with this whole mess, but I don’t care about that right now. Dean’s missing, Cas. If you ever cared about us, cared about him, please help. Help me find him.”

He waited expectantly for something to happen.

Nothing.

Sam felt the anger surge again. This wasn’t some scratch they needed healed or some lore they needed decoded. This was his brother.

“If something happens to him, I blame you Castiel!” His voice may have been dripping with fury, but there was nothing but fear behind his eyes.

Nothing.

Sam shook his head.

“Fine,” he whispered. “Just call the p--”

It was at that moment that Castiel appeared. His eyes shone a brighter blue than Sam had ever witnessed before.

“Where did you see him last?” The angel demanded, surveying the room carefully.

Sam felt an urge to break his personal space boundary with the angel but he wasn’t sure if it was due to a desire to punch Cas square in the jaw or pull him into a hug.

Luckily, Bobby was able to interrupt the moment with his business-as-usual demeanor.

“This morning at breakfast,” Bobby said, pointing at the spoiled cereal still on the table.

“And neither of you heard or saw anything?” Cas squinted at each of them in turn.  There was no hint of an accusation in Cas’ voice, but Sam bristled all the same.

“We were a bit busy. You know, trying to fix your mess,” Sam felt the words rush from his mouth before he could stop them. He knew getting into a fight with the angel wasn’t going to help him find his brother any faster, but he felt better all the same for saying it.

Castiel slowly turned to face Sam. He met his eyes and held them longer than he ever had before.  Sam squirmed under his scrutiny.  He had no idea how Dean could stand it.

“Sam. I apologize for… my sudden departure,” Castiel spoke gravely and more formally than he had in a while , trying to convey to Sam how seriously he understood his transgression, “I was--” The angel’s careful mask of unsentimental, righteous fury was broken in an instant. He choked out the next word, “--scared.” Then the Angel of the Lord mask was back. His voice was back under control. “I will atone for my mistakes and provide you with as much of an explanation as I can. But only after. After we find Dean.”

Sam could only nod once, subdued for the moment.

“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel said sincerely. He closed his eyes and reached out with his grace to try to sense Dean’s presence. He knew that the Enochian protection he has engraved on the brothers’ ribs protected them from this type of angel locating, but he had, for some reason, always been able to sense Dean’s soul. At least enough to tell him if he was nearby.

And Dean felt very close.

Castiel’s eyes snapped open, and he scrutinised the room around him.

This didn’t make any sense.

Castiel spun once around the room, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Cas?” Sam dared to ask.

“He should be close,” Castiel explained, his voice betraying his doubt. “He feels very close, but-- You did search this house, didn’t you?”

“We did,” Bobby began calmly, before Sam jumped in.

“We checked every room, calling his name the whole time. He didn’t answer,” Sam shot back at the angel, but his voice lacked any venom in it.

His brother was close.

He wasn’t lost.

Then a whole new wave of worries washed over Sam. If he hadn’t answered, Dean may be hurt or unconscious. Sam pushed those thoughts aside and tried to deal with the positive. Dean was close.

“May I... double check?” Castiel asked Bobby with a hint of uncertainty. He wasn’t sure how much freedom he was being given. He knew the hunters were less than pleased with him.

Bobby inclined his head for permission, “Well, Sam didn’t just call you here to stand there and look pretty.”

With one beat of his wings, Castiel had disappeared.

Sam bristled again with anger, before he heard sounds upstairs. Soft footsteps and doors opening and closing faster than humanly possible.  Which made sense, since Castiel was not quite human.  Sam relaxed again, and waited.

The angel reappeared in front of them for a split second before repeating his speedy search on the lower level of the house. Sam could only catch glimpses of Castiel from the corner of his eye as he moved around the room searching for Dean.

“He’s here,” Castiel growled, finally settling for a moment, “I can feel him.”

Sudden realization dawned across Bobby’s face.

“Where’s the one place you can’t go, angel?” Bobby barely breathed.

Castiel caught the train of thought, just as Sam caught up to the both of them.

“The panic room,” All three of them said in unison.

Castiel vanished with a flap of his wings; Sam and Bobby scrambling down the stairs after him.

The angel was standing in front of the half closed door, looking more agitated than Sam had ever seen him.

“Your wards are… effective,” Castiel said in explanation, straining to get as close to the room as possible.

Sam breezed past Cas without comment and stared around the room. The filing cabinets were in perfect order, not one paper had shifted on the desk, the cot stood solitary in the middle of the room, blankets falling over its side, but Dean was not there.

“Dean!” Sam called, refusing to believe his eyes. He had to be here. Sam began to circle the room, checking every crevice where a boy could hide.

Suddenly, a small head poked out from under the cot.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean chirped happily, “Look what I made! It’s a fort. It’s got blanket and pillows in there. And a lantern so it’s not too dark. I even found a box of our old toys. Bobby must’ve kept ‘em.” He held up a small matchbox version of the Impala and laughed. “Look! It’s a baby Baby! I borrowed your iPod too so the fort was super awesome with tunes. I didn’t ask though..” Dean suddenly looked worried as the thought crossed his mind and finally subdued his excitement enough to look at his little brother properly, “is that okay?”

The question died in his throat as he finally caught sight of his brother. Sam was just staring at him in stunned silence.

Dean’s expression changed from worried to sheer panic. “What?”

He scrambled fully out from his fort and ran over to his brother.

“Have you been here all day?” Sam finally managed to utter, fighting to keep his voice steady and failing.

“Um… yeah,” Dean said carefully, not sure what Sammy was really asking him, but aware that that question meant so much more. “I wanted to stay our of your way. I can’t help at all with those books, but I know it’s important. I was just trying to help.”

“Oh, Dean!” Sam breathed out, before all his anxieties from the day came barrelling out of him at Dean, “You can’t just wander off like that, Dean! We were worried about you! We had no idea where you were. You didn’t say anything to us, and we thought we lost you! Dean, I couldn’t find you anywhere!” Sam knew this wasn’t making any sense to his brother, but he couldn’t stop, “Didn’t you hear us calling you?

Dean’s eyes widened as he took the brunt of his brother’s fury. “I’m sorry,” he repeated under Sam’s rant in a small and frightened tone. Despite his promise to himself that he would stop crying so much, Dean his eyes well up with tears. He hadn’t meant to scare Sammy, he was only trying to help.

“Sam, I believe you’re scaring him.”

The angel’s voice pulled Sam back to reality. He looked down at his brother and felt all the anger leave him. “No, Dean. _I’m_ sorry. I was just worried-”

But Dean wasn’t listening to Sam’s apology. At the sound of the gravelly voice from the doorway, all of Dean’s attention had refocused.

“Cas?” Dean asked, stunned. He must be dreaming again. Or was Cas really back?  
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel smiled. He silently cursed the angel sigils that prevented him from going to the boy. But Dean, seeming to read his mind, solved that problem.

“Cas!” Dean shouted and bolted for the angel. He flung himself at the angel, leaving Cas just enough time to open his arms and catch the boy hurtling towards him. As he lifted Dean and readjusted his weight in his arms, Castiel briefly thought that this reaction was not nearly as bad as he had imagined. Perhaps this younger form of Dean’s had stripped away some of his more violent inclinations.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Castiel felt as sharp pain shoot across his nose. Dean had punched him square in the face.

It wasn’t enough to seriously hurt the angel, but it certainly caught him off guard. The surprise nearly made him drop Dean. As Castiel, with an unangelic lack of grace, scrambled to keep his hold of the boy, Dean continued to beat his small fists wildly at whatever part of the angel he could reach.

“You. Promised. You. Left. You. Promised.” Dean huffed in between blows.

Bobby reached out to take the boy from the angel’s arms, but Castiel resecured his grip first. He took the blows willingly, and merely stared seriously into Dean’s face.

“I know,” He said after a moment of silently accepting the beating, “It was wrong.”

The fight went out of Dean immediately.

He sniffed back tears and said weakly, “You promised.” Then, without warning, he buried his face in Castiel’s shoulder.

Cas merely held him tighter.

Dean promised himself he wouldn’t cry, and he managed to keep his promise, but that didn’t mean he was willing to let go of his angel. After he was sure that the tears were safely back in his eyes, he pulled his head back to look Cas right in the eyes.

“Castiel,” Dean said with all the gravitas a four year old could muster, “You are my angel, right?”

The itch at the back of his mind reminded him that he should feel embarrassed with this display of emotion while he had his family as an audience, but even that quieted down at the angel’s reply.

“Yes, Dean.”

“You have to say it,” Dean demanded.

“I am your angel,” Castiel hadn’t hesitated a second. He struggled for a moment before tossing all angelic aloofness to the wind and added, “And you are my human.”  
Dean’s face scrunched up as he tried to fight back a huge grin. “I am,” the boy agreed, “I’m your human. But you have to promise you won’t leave me again. You have to swear on something really important.”

As soon as he had agreed to be _Dean’s_ angel, Castiel knew he had no intention of disappearing on the boy again, but he also knew word’s wouldn’t be enough to prove it to him.

Cas used his free hand and placed it over Dean’s shoulder. “I swear.”

Dean grinned, relieved. He pushed their foreheads together almost as if sealing the pact.

Bobby and Sam exchanged a sideways glance, but said nothing.

The moment was broken as Dean’s stomach growled, and the sound echoed in the hollow panic room.

“Oh,” Dean said in surprise, his head popping back up, “I’m hungry.”  
Sam absolutely lost it, doubling over in laughter, and Bobby chuckled. Castiel took the opportunity to beam at Dean. His human. Dean grinned back at Cas, and a greater sense of understanding flashed behind his innocent eyes.


	12. The Real Story

Dean was finally hungry for the first time in several days and ate enough for the full grown man he used to be from the pizzas that Bobby had ordered. What made it exceptionally difficult and messy was that the whole time he was scarfing down the grease soaked slices, he was doing it one handed. The other hand was tucked safely inside the hand of his angel.

The boy was too excited that his angel was back and too terrified of Cas leaving again to care about Bobby and Sam seeing this display of affection.  His angel was here with him, and he was not letting him out of arm’s reach for the foreseeable future. Although, to be fair, every time Dean prodded the itch in the back of his mind that occasionally reminded him he should be embarrassed of his clear signs of devotion to the angel, the itch would subside without Dean ever getting a clear reason _why_.

Bobby and Sam would meet each other’s eyes across the table whenever one of them would catch sight of the hand holding again, but neither was going to say anything in front of the kid. Or his guardian angel.

Sam made a mental note to confront Dean about it later. If--no, when they returned him to his normal self.

Castiel simply kept his eyes trained on Dean as he babbled about everything that Cas had missed in the two days he had been gone. Which was, apparently, a lot more than anyone at the table had been aware of. Dean had always had an overactive imagination and leaving him alone in a fort of his own creation for a day had kickstarted many, many adventures. Sam wasn’t sure how Dean had anytime to chew between his words.

Eventually, Dean tired of both pizza and stories, but he was not done with family bonding just yet. Dean had somehow managed to coerce everyone into a movie night.

“We never have any fun,” he said morosely, looking up into his brother’s eyes, “not together.”

Sam just sighed, gave Bobby an apologetic look, and shrugged for assent. He didn’t have the heart to deny Dean anything, especially since he still felt guilty for going off on his brother earlier.  What Sam really wanted to do was sit the angel down and finally get some straight answers out of him, but he knew he couldn’t do it in front of Dean.

So he waited.

 

Dean nestled in on the couch between his brother and Castiel. Bobby pulled up a chair next to them and flipped on the TV.  The old hunter could pretend to be as gruff and strictly business as he wanted, but even he wouldn’t have denied Dean some non-hunting time with his family.

They found some old action movie playing on TV that Dean seemed to be interested in. He grinned gleefully at every cheesy explosion.  They had started the movie about 15 minutes into it, so Dean took time at commercial breaks to explain to Castiel what he had missed and even what had just happened five minutes earlier in the film. As he spoke, he gestured excitedly with his hands, even the one still gripping tightly onto Cas.

Castiel, to his credit, paid as much attention to Dean as if he were explaining a plan to outsmart a demon, and not the finer points of a B-rated movie.

During one commercial break, Sam had a thought.  He had spent most of the movie shooting glances at Castiel, trying to guess what possible angle he was playing.  It didn’t seem like Cas to cause Dean any harm, and he certainly wasn’t acting any more malicious than normal, but there were still answers Sam needed.  Still, if he couldn’t question Cas just yet, he could try and learn more about exactly what was happening to Dean.

“Dean,” Sam mused, “do you remember this movie?”

“Yeah,” Dean said enthusiastically, “How else would I ‘splain it to Cas?” He aimed a bright smile at the angel as he said his name.

“And you remember all our hunts together?” He asked gently.

Dean’s eyes narrowed as he concentrated, “I think so? There were a lot…”

“Do you remember being bigger than you are now?”

“Um…” Dean scrunched his face in serious thought. The memories seemed both real and fiction. Obviously he wasn’t bashing heads in and ganking monsters at his present size, but his brain didn’t seem to want to put the pieces together. “I don’t know, Sammy.” He rubbed his face with his free hand in frustration, and squeezed hard on Castiel’s hand. “Yes? Maybe?”

Why wouldn’t his brain cooperate? He was fine letting it do it’s own thing, but now he was trying to touch that itch at the back of his mind and it would not let him get close. His head was starting to hurt.

Castiel turned his gaze from Dean’s face to Sam’s. The first time his had met his eyes since Sam had called him there. Castiel would not say anything out loud, would not question Sam, not when he still had so much to answer for himself, but his eyes spoke what his mouth would not. Let. It. Go.

Sam dropped Cas’ gaze and put a tender arm around Dean, “Hey, don’t worry about it. Forget I asked.”

Dean shook off the heaviness that had settled over him, and asked “Really?”

“Really. It’s fine.” Sam ruffled his hair and gave him a smile.

“Awesome!” Dean perked up. “The movie’s back on anyway.”

Dean snuggled closer to Sam and let out a contented sigh.

Sam could wait.

 

He only had to wait about an hour longer before the credits of the movie started to roll. Sam looked down at Dean, hoping he wouldn’t ask to watch another one like he always did. Dean seemed to only watch television in marathons. What he found was his brother sleeping soundly on the couch beside him. Dean had somehow managed to curl up into a ball against Castiel,  using the angel as a pillow. His grip on his hand had loosened, but it was still there.

Bobby shut the TV off with a swift click of the remote.  The room plunged into a deafening silence.  

Sam eyed the sleeping figure of his brother, watching his chest rise and fall for a few moments, before deciding it was safe to speak.

“Okay, Cas. Tell us everything.”

Castiel met Sam’s eyes again and nodded.

“I’ll tell you everything,” Cas began.  As he spoke, he swiftly, but gently pulled Dean into his lap, in a protective gesture for both the boy and himself. “But before I begin, I just want you to know that I never meant to hurt him. And I never wanted this.”

His blue eyes dropped to the boy, and Cas pet his hair reverently as he slept.

Sam only said, “Talk.”

 

\------------------------------

 

Castiel had been attending to his duties in heaven when he had the sudden, sinking feeling that something was wrong with his Winchesters. No matter where Castiel was, Heaven or Earth, it seemed he always had an extra sense about Dean.  Ever since he pulled Dean from hell, Cas had felt the hunter’s soul inexplicably tied to his own grace. Much like his hand had left an imprint on Dean’s body, Castiel often thought. The angel concentrated on that bond for a moment, trying to access the likelihood that the Winchester would require angelic intervention.

He had been mistaken before.

Castiel had appeared in a motel room, angel blade at the ready, prepared to go to battle, only to find Dean and a bedfellow looking none too pleased at the interruption. He supposed it made sense. It must have something to do with the adrenaline released both in battle and during acts of lovemaking.  Still, Castiel would feel the pull from Dean’s soul and dutifully turn up.  He simply learned to appear invisibly cloaked at first, to determine if it was just another drunken night or actual physical danger.

Castiel examined the bond closer now. There was no mistaking it this time. It was danger.

Without a second thought, dropping the task at hand, Castiel flapped his wings. He appeared in an abandoned industrial park and looked around. The angel couldn’t get any closer because of his own Enochian protection on the hunters, but the pull of Dean’s soul had gotten him this close. He could also feel numerous vampire presences nearby.

Of course. That’s where they would be.

With another powerful thrust of his wings, he appeared directly behind the vampire leader who had Dean pinned up against the wall, gasping for his life.  One flick of his wrist, and the vampire’s body slumped away from his head. Dean fumbled with the head still clamped to his neck and ripped it away from him with little regard for his own well being.

As usual.

Castiel felt Dean pat him gruffly, but affectionately, on the back, “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel glared at his friend, but mostly at the oozing wound on his neck, as he replied, “That was cutting it a bit close, don’t you think, Dean?”

He knew he should just reach out and heal the wound, but Castiel was stunned into inaction at Dean’s next words.   
“What can I say? I must be getting old.”

Somewhere inside him, Cas knew it was a joke.  He had learned enough about Dean to recognize that it wasn’t meant as a serious indication of the hunter’s age, but still the words made the angel freeze.

Dean was human.

Dean was strong.

Dean was capable.

Dean was kind and loving but also fiercely overprotective and reckless and self-sacrificing.

Dean was human.

Dean was mortal.

The thought shouldn’t have rattled the angel as much as it did. He had lived for millennia and watched human grow and age and die, but it had never affected him as much as it did now. Old age made you slow, and hunters could not afford to be slow, could not afford to get old. Hunters never managed to survive long enough.

This moment of reverie felt to Castiel like a lifetime, but must have only existed in a half second. From somewhere outside himself, Cas heard Sam grumbled. He tried to force himself back to the present time as it was unfolding, instead of counting out the finite number of days that remained for his hunter.

Castiel heard himself answer Sam without his own conscious thought. Half of him was fighting the fury building up in him. Of course, as an angel, Cas knew that humans were mortal, but it had never seemed to bother him before now. Dean was special. The universe, or his Father, at the very least should have recognized that.

Sure, he had watched his friend die before- by hell hound or gunshot wound or various other violent means- but just _living to death_ seemed the cruelest torture of all.

He pushed the anger he felt at the injustice of his father’s creation down and focused. Dean was not dead yet.

Although he would be soon if he didn’t stop the bleeding from his neck. Castiel sighed and pushed his hand to Dean’s wound, when he was finally asked to, but did not stick around any longer than necessary.

If Dean had to continue fighting, Castiel may be able to give his hunter an advantage. If he couldn’t do it himself, the angel was going to find someone who could.

 

\-----

 

It took nearly no time at all to discover which bar his target was at.  Getting an invite to the poker game was a bit more complicated. Castiel thought that just asking outright, which might have been an appealing option a few years ago, seemed too obvious a tactic to him now after his time watching the Winchesters work.

Instead, the angel took a moment to sit at the bar and survey the establishment as he mulled over his options. There was an obvious entrance to a back room or basement that the bartender was keeping a close eye on.  When the man saw Castiel watching, the bartender turned his suspicious eye onto the angel. Castiel pretended not to notice.

Eventually, the man brought him a beer.

“On the house,” he said with more of a grimace than a grin.

Cas nodded politely and thanked the man.

After a moment, the bartender elaborated, “Looked like you could use it.”  He gave Castiel a long, hard look and continued, “You’ve obviously got somethin’ weighing on you.”

“Mostly just the inconvenience of human mortality,” Cas answered honestly, taking an obligatory swig from the bottle, so as not to seem ungrateful.

Something close to recognition flashed behind the bartender’s eyes, and he smiled again, “You and me both, buddy.”

Could it really be _that_ easy?

Then again, Castiel was aware that when he wasn’t purposefully displaying the power of his angelic Grace, his vessel tended to look a bit worse for the wear. Perhaps it was this seeming vulnerability that the bartender had identified.

“Hold that thought, pal,” The man lumbered over to a phone behind the bar and said a few hushed words into the receiver. He turned to look at Castiel as he spoke, but quickly turned away when he saw the angel watching him.

Apparently it really _was_ that easy.

The bartender ended the conversation with another greasy grin and strode back over to Castiel, with a new confidence in his step.

“What would you say to a game of poker?” The man leaned closer to Cas, careful not to let anyone else hear their conversation. “Might get your mind off the mysteries of life.”

Cas was careful not to betray the ruse by seeming too overeager. He was certainly putting his people skills through their paces today, but he tried to keep a clear head and think what the Winchesters would do.

“I’ve never been very good at poker,” Castiel took another gulp of the cheap beer, “My luck always seems to run out.” He paused for what seemed an appropriate amount of time, then added, “Still…”

The bartender laughed, clearly pleased with himself for finding his boss’ next victim.

“I think you’ll want to play all the same. Just a friendly game. It could change your life.”

Castiel pretended to mull this idea over for a minute, then raised his beer in acceptance. “Why not?”

The bartender chuckled again and lead the way through the back door the angel had been watching earlier. The door lead to a staircase that descended into the storage cellar of the bar.  The cellar was damp and musky, but there was a small dry table tucked away in a corner that was well lit and welcoming.

The well dressed man sitting at the table stood up with a warm smile and offered his hand.

“Welcome….”

“Cas,” the angel supplied, trying to give the man no more information than was necessary.

“Cas,” the man repeated, “what a pleasure to meet you. My name is Patrick. And I have a very special game of poker for us to play tonight.”

 


End file.
